The Long War: Season 1: Of Light and Darkness
by United Systems Navy
Summary: After the destruction of the Twelve Colonies the last surviving colonial ships band together in a small fleet. With nothing left to lose and everything to avenge they choose to fight on in a long, brutal war in the depths of space.
1. Pilot episode: The Fall, part 1

Season 1: Of Light and Darkness

Episode 1: The Fall

Part 1:

**Huxton:**

Commander Adriatic Huxton stood in bare feet on the thick crimson rug that occupied most of his small bedroom. His eyes were focused his television, which displayed the Picon fleet headquarters his ship was currently orbiting. It was day one of 'Fleet Week,' held on the week anniversary of the ending of the first cylon war. Instead of the normal peace and quiet around the massive cylindrical station and its attendant warships there was a festive atmosphere and almost five hundred civilian ships of all shapes and sizes and sanctioned tour shuttles swarming in the HQ's airspace. At the center of the display ten battlestars were parked in a line ten kilometers off the station's port side, their support ships forming a perimeter around them that only cleared civilian ships and the shuttles could enter. His ship, the battlestar _Vindication_, was in the back of the line. Most of the civilian transports and freighters were now clustered around the perimeter; some were even docked in the battlestar's hangar pods offloading tour groups. A swamped colonial fleet command had estimated there were half a million people crammed onto ships and station, with peak traffic being predicted to reach three million in several hours.

Huxton saw them as three million security hazards. He checked his digital watch: it was 1170 now, he had thirty minutes to get to the bridge. Huxton checked the buttons on his dress uniform, then when satisfied the gunmetal grey two-piece with silver pips on the lapels was orderly, walked from his bedroom to main living room. He stepped into his boots next to the door and laced them up.

"And here is the commander's quarters" a female voice wafted in through his front door. It was probably from one of the twenty plus tour groups roaming the ship at the moment. Huxton sighed. The disordered tour groups crawling the corridors and the exhibitions going on in the mess hall and port hangar pod set him on edge.

He checked his hip, and realized his sidearm was sitting in his bedroom. "Fracking idiot, one day you'll forget it when you need it" he muttered to himself and stomped back to his bedroom. He snatched the standard issue MIR-4 pistol off his nighttable, made sure there was a round chambered and the safety on, and slid it into his holster. On the television screen one of the zippy little private freighters orbiting the Mercury class battlestar three places ahead in line suddenly broke from its orbit and made a diving pass across its port side close enough to pass between the CAP vipers and hull. Huxton groaned. A faststar nearby flipped around and moved to intercept the rogue ship. Her crew would be spending the week in fleet HQ's brig for violating flight orders.

Huxton's radio squawked. He pulled it off his belt. "Commander Huxton?" a voice asked.

Huxton put it to his ear and hit the talk button. "This is him, go ahead," he said.

"Sir, this is Major Cage, there's been a bit of a screw up, the first tour group will be on the CIC in under five." Huxton checked his watch: 1173. He swallowed a stream of profanity.

His voice shook in anger as he replied "I understand." He would be making a speech to every tour group that came through the CIC. Cage must've guessed his thoughts.

"Hey commander, they're just civilians, how bad can it be?" he asked. Something banged outside.

Huxton winced and replied "they are undisciplined elements aboard a colonial warship, undisciplined elements who like to wander off into restricted parts of said warship and do things like hang from the air ducts and push computer buttons that cause bad things to happen, or try to fire the railgun turrets so help us all. There's a reason why I've avoided fleet week duty for the past five years"

"Permission to speak freely Sir?"

"Go ahead Major."

"Are you sure you aren't overreacting? Fleet week frays our nerves, but think about all the civvies you're going to be showing off to, including interested females." Huxton snorted. He was forty-four and taken. Cage took the reply in stride and continued "If you need to relax I'm sure Doc Varis has something for you."

"Thank you Major, that all?"

"Yes, Cage out." The link went dead. Huxton went to his private bathroom. He checked his uniform over again in the mirror, brushed his teeth, and made sure his small black goatee and full moustache were neatly trimmed. Varis probably had something for him, something that would calm him but give him a headache and a sinus problem. Some of the illicit elements in the depths of his ship probably also had something for him, something that would make his eyes bloodshot and turn him into a hungry idiot for the next several hours. He decided just dealing with the butterflies would be best.

Huxton opened his door and stepped into the corridor-to find twenty well dressed men, women, and children staring at him with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. Oh, this is commander Huxton" the young female tour guide said, then began giving a few details about his colorful career. Huxton smiled and waved as he pushed his way through. He hit open corridor and walked off as fast as he could while remaining respectable. Halfway down the long corridor between his cabin and the bridge his radio squawked again.

"Commander here, go ahead" he said.

"CAG to Commander, blue squadron is ready to being its flyby of the civvie ships, proceed?" Jamie Beric, callsign 'Cross' said. His voice was raspy with his sixty-three years of age, but still projected the impressive authority and reassurance he'd gained from forty-five years of service.

"Give them the go ahead Berics." A joke formed in Huxton's mind. "Notify the pilots that if any ship so much as deviates from its flight plan they are to go weapons free and engage."

"What?" Jamie said in shock. Huxton covered the mic and broke out laughing for several seconds. "Commander, are you alright?" he heard Cross ask.

"That was a joke Beric, ignore that." Now Cross laughed.

"Very good, Commander, Berics out. Huxton reached the bridge. Two marines with assault rifles guarded the meter thick titanium portal. They saluted and one opened the door.

Sitting at the communications station next to the door, Lieutenant Amanda Marlay was the first to notice his arrival. She leapt up to attention and announced "Commander on deck!" The dozen officers present snapped to attention.

"At ease" Huxton said and returned the salute. He walked to his desk on the opposide side of the bridge facing the door. Major Cage was temporarily occupying XO Colonel Amy Nessella's staion on its right. Huxton turned to him and lowered his voice. "What's the situation with the civvies and tour groups?"

"Behaving just fine except this one freighter. Captain Sare is on his third tour group in the hangar bay, Nessella is on her fifth in the mess hall. Our first will be here any moment," Cage said. Huxton nodded. Captain Sare was the _Vindication_'s chief communications officer and sixth in the chain of command. Huxton couldn't help but feel Nessella should've been in his doing the most important presentation of all. She had the charisma and charms to speak to several thousand civilians and keep them enthralled, he didn't

Huxton looked at the crowded DRADIS display at the front of the bridge, then at the visual screen to his left, linked to one of the _Vindication_'s eight externally mounted cameras. He saw the faint specks of the vipers whip by, passing through the civilian ships and diving on the battlestar's forward observation deck where three hundred civilians were waiting. He smiled fondly as he imagined what it would be like. When he had gone aboard the _Galactica_ when he was just ten he had waved to the pilots as they made the exact same maneuver in their Mark III vipers.

Marlay opened exit portal and leaned into the corridor, then leapt back. Panic was etched across her face as she called "Cylon attack waves incoming". The bridge echoed with laughter. Huxton meanwhile gritted his teeth and moved to stand before the tactical command table at the center of the bridge. A second later thirty men, women, and children filed in. Theyw ere dressed in black suits and dresses for the occasion. He recognized at least one from the news as a major CEO. They spent a couple of minute examining the consoles and chattering amongst them, occasionally questioning the bridge staff, who smiled and answered.

**Marlay:**

"Excuse me, what's this do?" Marlay looked up to see a pair of teenage girls leaning over her station. One was over one hundred and eighty-five centimers tall and was thin with curly brown hair and dark eyes, the second was maybe one hundred eighty centimeters, and had shoulder length platinum blode hair and a rounded face. The brown haired one was fiddling with a lever on the right.

Marlay smiled and answered. "Primary communications station, that lever sends out low wavelength communications, below FTL speeds."

"And this is the FTL comm" the blonde surprised her by pointing to the glowing blue computer left of the lever. Marlay nodded, impressed. The girl continued. "Superhigh frequency, too high for a normal radio to pick out, somewhere around 20000 Ap" she continued. Marlay raised her eyebrows.

"You seem to know the basics. I'm Lieutenant Marlay, second communications officer." She extended her hand. The blonde girl's face lit up and she shook it eagerly.

"I'm Aelia and this is Rachel, nice to meet you" she grabbed her distracted friend, who smiled and waved.

Marlay was curious, "where'd you learn FTL communications 101 anyway?"

Aelia laughed nervously. "I'm just taking a couple courses in high school, I'm a sophomore right now so I only know a little bit."

Rachel put a hand on her shoulder. "Her dad is also the CEO of Gerdon telecommunications."

Aelia blushed and giggled nervously. "Yes he is" she said. Gerdon was one of Libran's fortune three hundred companies, and one of the three largest civilian network providers in the colonies. Marlay realized in awe that Aelia's parents could have bought the _Vindication_ if they wanted to. She saw Aelia's embarrassed look, heard Rachel's apology, and realized that she'd wanted to hide that.

"I have to take that, nice meeting you" Marlay said, and seated herself at the desk. The girls waved and turned to leave. "Oh, and nice dress Aelia, did you get that from Virgon fashion's fall lineup?" she added. Aelia blushed and looked down at the tight fitting thigh length blue dress she was wearing

"Yes actually."

"Rachel, you got that skirt from spring last year?" Marlay added easily.

Rachel nodded and replied, "I did. Just wondering here, but what are you saying?"

Marlay smiled "Oh nothing, you don't get much dedicated fashion talk around here, that's all, especially with this lot" Marlay jerked her thumb at Huxton and Cage. The three of them giggled for a few seconds then parted ways.

**Huxton:**

Huxton put on a false smile. He had always been good at hiding his real feelings beneath a pleasant cover, ever since his days in high school when he had orchestrated brutal revenge on his classmates for throwing his books in the mud or punching him into his locker. The times and situations were different now, but the technique remained the same. He cleared his throat and said "Attention visitors." Every eye went to him. He crossed his hands behind his back. "Welcome to the battlestar _Vindication_, the finest ship in the fleet. Every commander will tell you that about their tin can, but this actually is," he pointed at the deck. The small comedy elicited a smatter of chuckling. "She is thirteen hundred and fifty meters long, and has a mass of one hundred and twenty million tons. Her crew is over four thousand." There were awed gasps.

"Now for some history, the _Vindication_ was laid down twelve years ago as the fifth of the new _Valkyrie_ medium battlestar line, intended as a –" Marlay tapped him on the shoulder and proffered a paper. He noticed her worried expression. "Hang on one second, duty calls" he said, and took it. It had come from the joint admirals: 'Armistice line picket buoys and patrolling fleet elements have gone silent. Active duty ships are to immediately make combat preparations and await deploayment orders.' Huxton barely covered his look of shock. _I knew it, five years I've been telling everyone, and now the cylons are coming_. His ship was not on active duty however, which meant he had to place the paper in his pocket, nod to Marlay, and cheerfully return to his tour group.

"Pardon that, just some admiral complaining about his coffee machine. As I was saying, the _Vindi_-" The DRADIS readout began beeping frantically. He spun around. The long line of green dots and the massive green orb of the fleet HQ were under siege, by an armada of red dots. The civilians began to whisper fearfully to each other.

Cage quickly sat down at his desk and began typing. He announced, "Unidentified warships have jumped into HQ airspace, give me a moment to confirm their origin"

Huxton didn't wait for that, he already knew they were cylons. "Major, go to condition one, get our guns crewed and our engines powered up."

"Yes sir" Cage said. A deep klaxon wailed through the ship and red alarms flared.

"Action stations, action stations" a cool female voice emanated from the loudspeakers. The civilians panicked, Rachel and several others screamed. Some froze up, some dove under desks and machines, some scrabbled for the exit which the marines outside had automatically shut. One plowed into Huxton, who threw him back with a snarl.

"Commander, it could be a joke, some holiday prank," Cage said.

"It might not be, get ready to set us to condition two. Check the visuals first though" Huxton ordered. The screen blurred as the camera swooped around on its mount-and settled on a cluster of white dots straight above it. It zoomed in, revealing them to be star-shaped warships, sleek and menacing looking, surrounded by clouds of fighters and support craft. "Condition one," Huxton reaffirmed. A moment later DRADIS received a response to its transponder hailing and labeled the hundreds of new contacts as cylon ships.

Huxton pointed at the tour guide backed against the far wall. "Clear the damn CIC, Ensign." Then to Cage: "Scramble our viper wing and have the support ships form up in formation delta epsilon oh eight."

**Cross:**

Cross fumbled with his flight suit. He had been in his dress uniform with half a dozen other pilots on the starboard hangar deck floor giving a presentation on the viper mark VII when the alarms had gone off and orders had come through. Despite having over thirty years on most of his pilots he was still the first person to zip up his flight suite and sprint from the crowded ready room to the flight deck. On the deck floor yellow clad deck hands were quickly maneuvering the vipers into position and performing last minute checks on them as civilians streamed towards the exits.

"Cross, its going to be a minute until they've got the catapults running!" Svan Jenner, callsign 'Slammer' called from the cockpit of his mark VII. He had had his flight suite on to give demonstrations to the civillians.

"Gods damn it, they're going to leave half the wing out in space to die" Cross growled. He leapt into his viper's cockpit. Deck Chief Petty Officer James Keeton handed him his helmet. Cross grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled his face in. "Get the catapults operational now," he growled.

Keeton pulled back. "Working on it," he replied and clambered back in. Cross sighed and snapped his helmet on. Around him the other pilots were climbing into their birds.

**Huxton:**

Marlay handed Huxton another paper. He read it. "Orders just came down from Flag Admiral Breidis; We are going to meet the cylons head on and stall them so the civilians can escape and reinforcements arrive." He nodded to Captain Grissom at the helm. "Helm, bring us about to course delta carom three nine nine to face the enemy, match speed with the fleet" he ordered.

The view on the visual screen swung as the bow rose to meet the impressive cylon fleet. The _Vindication_ fell into the back of the formation of battlestars, which was centered on the Nova class battlestar _Ra_. The radio channels filled with different commanders calling out to each other.

Huxton took a step back to get a better view of the DRADIS readout, and bumped into a man in a brown suit. The tour guide was doing his best to shepherd the civilians out, but a traffic jam had formed at the door, resulting in a loud crowd clogging the center of the CIC.

Huxton counted fifty basestars and over two hundred support ships on DRADIS. Even at the two to one successful engagement ratio the colonials had enjoyed in the last war the numbers were too high. The Atlatl missile launcher banks on the fleet headquarters and the 2000 millimeter quad barreled turrets on the hexagonal sentry turrets floating around it would go a long way to evening the fight.

"Keep the fighters in close as a shield and have our supports set up a perimeter. Remember, this is a holding action, we keep the cylons off until the reinforcements jump in, don't take any risks" Huxton said.

"Yes sir" Cage replied. Huxton knew Cage was one of the brightest young officers in the fleet, but he sorely missed Nessella in the XO spot. He returned his attention to the battle. The two sides were less than ten thousand kilometers apart, almost in effective range. The battlestars were clustered close together to support each other, their fighters and escorts forming a dense shield between them and the voracious cylon support ships ranging ahead of the main fleet.

The lead battlestar flashed red for a second. Then the lights along its hull died. No longer accelerating, it began to fall out of formation. A second battlestar flashed red and died. A chain reaction ran down the fleet. Huxton had just noticed it when it hit the _Vindication_. The viewscreen glowed red for an instant.

Then the power died. DRADIS went dead, the various computers and displays on the CIC flickered and shut off as if someone had flipped a switch. All along the battlestar crew and civilians alike froze as they were plunged into absolute darkness. Screams rang out followed by impacts as running bodies tripped and fell or collided with each other and walls. Panic ensued on the bridge. Civillians shouted and blundered every direction, one tumbling into Huxton. Cage, Marlay, and several other officers added their voices to the mess.

"Quiet!" Huxton bellowed, to no avail. He drew his sidearm, made a snap calculation on whether the desired effect was worth it, and fired it into the ceiling. The blast reverberated through the low ceilinged CIC, drowning out everything else. By the time his ears had stopped ringing he had his silence. "Three, two, one."

The emergency lights came on, casting the CIC in a harsh red glow. Huxton looked to the DRADIS, which should have at least started booting back up. Its screen was blank. He spun to face the panicking Cage. "Is anything working?"

"Negative, all systems are down, I can't even bring the main power lines back up" Cage said. Huxton leapt over to his desk and grabbed the phone off it. It was a sound activated model, installed for just such an emergency. He dialed engineering and listened to it ring.

"Huxton to engineering, what just hit us?" he said.

"We don't know, the main reactor just shut down on us, all computer systems are out" chief engineer Colonel Radin replied. "We think it's a computer malfunction, I've got men checking the computer core."

A chime announced someone else dialing the bridge and a new voice broke in. "Commander, are you there?" a shaking voice said. Before Huxton could affirm it kept speaking. "This is Sergeant Alenko, I'm the forward observation gallery. The entire fleet has lost power. I can see the explosions from where they are picking off our fighters" it said. Huxton's felt a faint quaver in his stomach.

"What about the battlestars?" he asked.

"Dead in space, the lead ships are under missile fire-holy frak the _Agamemnon_ just went up!" _Frak._

"Colonel, can you get the FTL operational on its own if all else fails?" It took Huxton's brain a second longer to realize he was suggesting abandoning a good part of the colonial military high command plus over five hundred thousand civilians. He swallowed hard before his stomach could betray him and told himself that without a miracle from Kobol there was no other choice.

Radin remained calm. "Its offline, we're feeding it emergency battery power but something's holding down the off switch, again it might be the computers, I can't be sure." The deck shook as the _Vindcation _took its first missile.

Cage tapped Huxton on the shoulder. "It's the computers, the power lines are still hooked up and the emergency batteries are feeding into them. Every command I try on the computer core gets about a quarter second of life from it, then it dies. The only thing that could do that would be someone hacking our network to shut it down. The deck rocked under their feet. Cage fell but Huxton kept his feet.

"I heard that, thank you," Radin said.

"The _Ra_ just split in half! There were twenty thousand people aboard her!" Alenko cried over screaming in the background, all semblance of professionalism gone.

"Is there anyway to get around that?" Huxton said, his voice rising. He was nearly thrown off his feet by two hits in quick succession. The CIC floor was covered in struggling bodies. Something hard and wet crashed against Marlay. She pushed it off, then panicked when she realized it was someone's head with a limp body attatched to it.

Radin was apprehensive. "We could disconnect the FTL drive and manually jump, but that would be a blind jump."

"Three battlestars are down, they're closing in on us!" Alenko cried. The ship began to jolt under a steady barrage of missiles. Everyone still standing was thrown to the ground except Huxton, who threw himself into his seat and clung to his desk with both hands.

"Do it!" he ordered.

**Radin:**

Radin dropped the phone and pelted through the cavernous engineering chamber where the FTL spool sat in a dense steel cage; the centerpiece of the deck. "Grab power cutters and wrenches, we need to disconnect the main drive!" he shouted to his crew who were struggling unsuccessfully with the support systems lining the walls. By the time he'd reached the spool shaped FTL drive there were two teenaged deckhands with a wrench ripping away the first of the half a dozen cables hooking the drive by the spools into the network.

A hard hit knocked them away with a shout and a clatter. Radin stumbled, kept his balance, and almost fell against the spool as another missile struck the _Vindication_. He grabbed the loosened cable and pulled it out, taking a chunk of electronics with it. The huge Ensign Irdeki stepped past him, a power saw whirring to life in his hands. Sparks flew from a particularly thick cable as he cut into it. Radin grabbed the skinniest one and pulled. His regular visits to the ship's gym paid off as the cable easily came away in his large hands.

Ensign Davies and pair of pliers appeared on his left. He unscrewed a fourth while Irdeki started on a fifth. Then the floor under their feet jolted and Irdeki lost control. On the other side of the spool Engineer Thome screamed as the saw went wild and sliced through his chest. Blood spurted from the wound across Irdeki and the spool and he collapsed. Irdeki dropped the still active saw and collapsed backwards. Radin winced but shouted, "Keep going, almost done, someone with a stomach grab that saw!"

A burly marine who wasn't even supposed to be there grabbed the saw and finished off the last cables. Then Radin remembered the wireless receiver embedded in the spool. "Cut here!" he pointed to the electric lock at the center of the spool protecting it.

**Huxton:**

Another hit sent a structural beam slamming through the ceiling, narrowly missing Huxton. He sat at his station, helpless and praying. The _Vindication_ and two other battlestars were all that was left, surrounded by twenty basestars. The dead colonial fleet headquarters was surrounded by the wrecks of hundreds of civilian ships and its sentry guns, the first nuclear detonations glowing against its hull.

**Radin:**

The saw made short work of the lock and Radin reached in and ripped the antennae out. With whatever force holding it back gone the FTL drive began to hum with power. The engineers began cheering.

Radin counted to ten while it warmed up. An explosion ripped out an overhead balcony and sent it crashing down in flames on several people. On the other side of the ship the port hangar pod was split open from bow end to midsection by a ttwenty-five megation blast. Several more missile hits including another nuclear detonation knocked Radin off his feet. He leapt up and grabbed the lever on the side of the spool. "Jumping!" he screamed, and threw his weight against it. The spool flashed blue as power coursed through it. It emerged through the damaged outer casing and coursed along its black length, incinerating anything touching its surface. Radin's hand's exploded in pain and he reeled back as the smell of burnt flesh permeated the air.

**Huxton:**

On the bridge Huxton heard the distinct eardrum-tearing screech of tortured electronics. Then he felt nothing.


	2. Part 2

**Huxton:**

Commander Adriatic Huxton opened his eyes. He was lying on his back on the cold CIC floor, staring at the metal plated ceiling, which was comfortingly lit by the normal LED spotlights. His head was throbbing and his stomach churned. The CIC was completely silent except for a beeping from somewhere out of his sight. "Computer network rebooting" a female voice said. Huxton winced as the sound grated against the inside of his skull.

He seemed to be the only living thing on the bridge.

He forced his lips apart, "hello?" No response. The console next to his head began humming. Huxton groaned, and sat up. Instantly the stabbing pain in his head flared and vomit came rushing up his throat. He clenched his teeth and choked it back down, leaving and acidic taste in his burning mouth. He grabbed the corner of the console and pulled himself to his feet. The room blurred, and then settled.

His officers and the civilians were strewn across the floor of the CIC. Several were stirring faintly. Marlay was curled in a fetal position next to her chair, visibly trembling. A groan drew Huxton's attention to the station next to his. Cage was slumped against the desk, one arm twisted beneath him at an angle too wide to be natural. His face twisted into a grimace. Huxton walked over on trembling legs. "Major."

Cage looked up. "You know, those bloodshot eyes really do make you look insane." Huxton smiled.

"Lets joke over liquor shots later, right now we've got a ship to save." He extended his arm. Cage grabbed his hand and he pulled him up.

"Ah!" Cage cried as his broken arm came loose. He grabbed it and quickly said "I'm fine, what do you need?"

"Find out what that beeping is, then give me a damage report." Cage nodded and hobbled away. The CIC's occupants were awakening and getting to their feet. Several cries of pain erupted from amidst them. A little boy barely elementary school aged burst into tears over his whimpering mother. Huxton blocked them out. He grabbed the phone and called engineering. "Bridge to engineering, good job."

"Thank you" Kelso replied. Huxton heard the _whoosh_ of high-pressure liquids and shouting in the background.

"Where is Radin?"

"Radin is being carried out, when the FTL spool activated it burned his hands."

There wasn't time to express sympathy. "What's your department's status?"

"Extremely fracked, with all due respect commander. A couple tylium pods burst and we've got a fire going, so everything is getting hosed down, we might need to vent if it gets out of control. The reactors went into safety and the ship is running on battery power for now. The FTL spool partially melted when activated, its going to be at least forty-eight hours to get it operational."

"I'll leave you to it, best of luck." Huxton hung up.

"Commander!" he looked over at Cage. "Its DC, we're venting atmosphere. Here's the damage report." Huxton tensed in anticipation. "There were over forty missile strikes on the ship, at least two of them nuclear. Our main radio network is offline with the CIC being the only way left to coordinate. We're venting atmosphere in sectors eight, fourteen, nine, seven and two, and electrical fires are raging in sectors nine, ten, fifteen, and twenty. Power is intermittent throughout everything in back of sector six and engineering is going to need a few hours to get the lines operational." He paused and his eyes dimmed just a little. "The port hangar pod has been ruptured and is venting atmosphere at a rate that will leave us in a vacuum in half an hour. There's almost eight hundred people trapped in there including Sare, and only a few of them are coming out."

Huxton ran through his options in his head. It took him a few precious seconds to decide on the right one. "Seal off the port hangar pod and let it decompress."

"Wait!" Marlay said. She was slumped against her chair, knees under her in a weak attempt to stand. "Sare's in there, you can't."

Cage patted his pendant, a relic from his hometown on Gemenon. "Sealing it off, and may the gods forgive us." He typed in a command. Marlay collapsed, covering her face.

At each entrance to the port pod massive gears grinded to life. Two-meter thick bulkheads slammed into place, forming an airtight seal. An immense cloud of gas blew out of the gaping chasm in the hangar pod, carrying with it debris and still moving bodies. Air gone, flailing at nothingness as life vanished behind, lungs rupturing, burning, a spinning view of the stars, nothing.

"Hangar pod sealed. That should buy us an extra half hour," Cage said.

Huxton looked at Marlay and felt a moment of sympathy for the twenty-year old, who had come to see Sare as a father figure since her arrival straight from Picon fleet academy four months ago. "On your feet Lieutenant, you're needed." She nodded and pulled herself into her chair. Then she remembered the bloody body and looked around. Aelia was sprawled on her back and bleeding from a dent in the side of her skull. Rachel was crouched beside her squeezing her hand and sobbing.

Huxton quickly gave his orders. "Cage, have damage control shut down the power in the sectors where there's fires and focus on regaining hull integrity. How bad are the breaches?"

"Most are medium to small size. Sector eight has a tear fifty feet wide though, nothing we have can fix it in time."

Huxton exhaled. _How many people am I going to have to kill today? _ "DC has twenty-five minutes to evac eight, then they seal it off regardless of who's still inside."

"Yes sir." The shaken tour guide and the two marines who had been guarding the CIC meanwhile were guiding the civilians off the bridge. Ensign Marakon had pulled the red lever next to his station at the back of the CIC. Huxton doubted any medical assistance would get to the half a dozen people collapsed in various states of injury on the floor for some time.

Huxton turned to Marlay. She kneeling besides a teenage girl bleeding from a bad head wound, pressing her jacket against the wound. "Lieutenant, when medical gets here they'll take care of her, get on your station. Internal communications are down, and your station is the only comm hub left on the ship. Our different DC teams and officers are scattered and possibly fighting for their lives with no way to report in. Get on your station and start coordinating their communications."

Marlay shook her head at a second teenage girl sobbing next to her, and leapt up. "Yes sir." Huxton saw the terrified look in her eyes as she took her station and put on her headset. He felt a twinge of pity.

"Oh, and Cage, get cyber maintenance on finding out how the cylons shut us down, if they're still alive that is." Shortly after his radio crackled. "Thank you Lieutenant" he said to Marlay, and grabbed it. "This is the Commander, who am I speaking to?."

"Good to here you Hux," Colonel Nessela said. "DC operations chief was in his quarters at the time we jumped. His quarters were blown into space with a good chunk of sector eight. I am taking operative command of any DC teams I can round up."

Huxton looked at Cage, who confirmed the update with a nod. "Understood, gods speed."

**Alenko:**

Alenko zippered up the bulky orange fire suit over his fatigues and grabbed a plasma cutter off the wall of the fore engineering station. After pulling the civilians out of the leaking forward observatory and sealing it off his squad, and dozens of other marines ship wide, had been recruited to augment the weakened DC teams. There were sixty people in this room readying up. The room had been intended to service over a hundred.

On his left Nessella pulled the helmet and oxygen mask over her red ponytail and snapped it into place. Her voice sounded tinny through the transparent mask. "As of now there are maybe two hundred of us ship wide, so the Commander is prioritizing objectives. We focus all our efforts on the hull breaches. Engineering will take care of the fires. Everyone to my left, head to sector two, a raptor and engineering team will be waiting n the outside when you get there." Twenty people fell under that jurisdiction. "Everyone to my right, come with me. We have twenty minutes to evacuate sector eight, then we seal it off."

The ship rocked suddenly and Alenko's grip tightened on his plasma cutter. "What was that?" he asked.

"I'll ask the Major, in the meantime, get your rears in gear before we're out of air!"

Alenko nodded to his eight-man squad. "Triple time boys." They streamed out of the chamber and down the _Vindication_'s teeming spinal corridor. Nessella somehow squeezed to the head of their group.

She turned around; somehow not colliding into any of the wreckage and people they were weaving through. "Cage just vented the port magazine" she explained, and then turned back.

It took ten precious minutes for their group to thread their way through the confusion and debris to eight. The bulkhead they arrived at had been jammed partially open by a spear of rent metal.

They paused for a moment to catch their breath. "Alright, there's four more entrances, one squad take each" Nessella said. She motioned to Alenko. "Sergeant, you're with me." They shoved their way through and arrived in a nightmare of tangled metal and multiple bodies obstructing the corridor. A handful of small fires crackled. What was most worrying was the distant low moan of the wind being sucked out into space through a gaping tear in the _Vindication_'s throat.

"She's bleeding out" Alenko said.

Beside him Corporal Sergev Belsinki turned to him confused. "What?"

Alenko pointed down the twisted corridor. "The cylons hit an artery, _Vinny_'s bleeding out." Nessella pointed at the wreckage. Alenko and Belsinki raised their cutters and sliced a path through it.

The first room they investigated was sector eight's security station. Half a dozen marines and a crowd of civilians and crew were cowering inside they looked up when Alenko melted the doorframe and kicked it open. "We are sealing this sector off, everyone out!" he shouted. He heard several gasps of horror from those who understood, then they started moving. The crewmembers shoved, and in some cases carried the civilians and wounded out the door. The DC team continued inside. Alenko had thought there would be no survivors, but each new room they cut open revealed more people, pale and faces masks of fear.

"Time's up, lets pull out" Nessella said too quickly. There were still people streaming past.

An image flashed before Alenko: the Picon fleet exploding one ship after another. He looked up and said "Colonel, we can't just leave them here." He looked around for support and saw several nods from his squad.

Nessella glared at him. It only made her look more afraid than he was. "Sergeant, there are maybe another couple hundred people in here, there are at least seven thousand people on this ship who will begin suffocating if we don't seal it off now, so move out!" She grabbed him by the shoulder and propelled him back down the corridor with surprising force given his several inches and fifty pounds of muscle on her. Alenko's feet started moving as his brain struggled to form counterarguments. They returned to the exit, and Private Venko sawed away the beam holding the portal open.

Nessella's fingers wrapped around the door's metal frame. "Close it" she said softly to hide that her heart was breaking. Alenko and Belsinki grabbed the door and threw their weight against it.

A collective cry of "No!" rose up briefly from their people on the other side, then it was cut off as the door slammed into place and locked. Alenko felt a faint pounding on the door, but that quickly faded. He let his feet give out. He wasn't the only one who sank to the deck.

"We did the right thing," Nessella whispered. She keyed her radio. "All teams report in" she said. A moment later a smile cracked beneath the mask and she addressed the team. "We're good on all entrances, two should be sealed momentarily. Everyone, take five, then we've got more work to do."

It took them ten hours of fighting to restore power to all sectors and stabilize the _Vindication_. Alenko was one of the last back to the ready room. He saw most of his comrades sprawled on the floor in their soot cakes yellow suits, and joined them in passing out.

**Huxton:**

"What's Doctor Veris' latest casualty figure?" Huxton said to Cage.

Cage's square jaw clenched. "One thousand eight hundred fifty four dead including port hangar estimates, nine hundred sixty wounded, two thirds of them civilian."

Huxton went to his station and pulled a notepad and pencil out of his jacket pocket. "How many people were onboard last counts?"

Cage took a moment to fid the answer. "Eight thousand three hundred, four thousand crew, four thousand one hundred civilians, and two hundred liaisons for fleet week." Huxton ran one hand through his spiky black hair. On the pad he wrote _6446_,

"Well, we saved the ship at least" he muttered.

"We did sir" Cage said. Huxton looked u at him. His clean-shaven dome was shining from the sweat on it and his normally energetic smile was a grimace. His broken arm was hanging limp by his side. It was noticeably deformed midway between his shoulder and elbow.

"Major, I think you've done enough, for today, you are relieved of duty, get down to the hospital and get that arm looked at" Huxton said.

Cage shook his head. "I respectfully request to remain on the CIC until a suitable replacement can be found." He gestured around. There was no command officer above the rank of Fifth Warrant officer in the CIC.

"Fine, as you were."

"I got a fix on our location" Navigator, Captain Grissom announced.

Huxton turned to the helm, located at the front of the pentagonal CIC. "Good, where are we?"

"We're fifteen light years from the edge of the Cyrannus system. Right now we're about a light year from the Caliban system and five light years from Nexus."

"That's bad. Could be worse actually, but that's bad" Huxton said. They could have jumped within sublight cruising range of the colonies, but they could also have jumped into Cylon space, or within the heliopause of the Tartarus system five light years from the colonies, where radiation from its blue sun would have cooked them within hours. "Plot a jump back to the colonies. Take us to the null space between the binary systems, in case we run into the cylons in this condition."

.

A few minutes later Cage's computer beeped. He read the new message and grinned. "Maintenance found the cylon weapon, take a look." Huxton looked over his shoulder. Scrawled across his screen were several lines of binary, then three words: "all systems deactivate."

"They sent us that?"

"Yes."

"That's a command, which means…"

"According to maintenance, the weaponwas a Trojan horse, embedded in the new Command Navigation Program. Once activated it enabled the cylons to take control of our computers, namely, telling them to shut down. This is the activation command."

"Can you remove it?"

"We'll have to remove the CNP and replace it with the old version, but it can be done."

"Do it then, and wipe down the entire computer core and take the network offline just in case the cylons got their virtual fingers on anything else. This is big, we have to warn the fleet about this."

"FTL communications would lead any cylons listening in back to us" Cage warned.

"I'm aware, and we are not in any state to fight." Right now he wouldn't have felt safe going up against a medium cruiser.

Marlay stepped forward and raised her hand. All attention went to her. "I can, I need a raptor and a relay transmitter. The raptor jumps a few light years away, the _Vindication_ sends her a tightbeam FTL transmission, and she relays it to the colonies and jumps away. If the cylons track it they'll end up in the middle of nowhere."

"Good idea, I'll call Cage send someone down, Captain" Huxton said.

"Captain?"

"You're the new chief comms officer, that makes you Captain" Huxton said. He didn't expect Marlay to smile, which she didn't.

"Commander, I should show you this." She returned to her station, Huxton and Cage followed her. On her computer screen was a dossier on the twenty-one members of the _Vindication_'s communications department including her. "I was trying to keep track of my people between handling internal communications," she said. Eighteen names from Sare down were marked as KIA and the other two were in the hospital.

Cage remembered a report three hours ago: electrical explosion in the primary antennae array, heavy fatalities. He put a hand on her shoulder. Her head drooped onto it. "Sorry" he whispered.

**Alenko:**

Alenko gave a gentle push to the bony shoulder of the elderly tourist at the head of the procession of civilians his squad was leading. "Here we are" he said, pointing to their barracks. The old man said something unintelligible, but thankful by its tone, and hobbled through. Alenko watched the twenty civilians enter, the last being a shell shocked and trembling woman in her early thirties. He waved his squad in after them.

"Well, this is it" he said, looking around at the ten meter by six meter room and its eight bunks. "Extra sleeping pallets and blankets are coming down from the quartermaster, so you can sit in our beds in the meantime."

"Thank you," several people whispered. Alenko saw a father with a stubbly beard lift his two small children, a boy and a girl, onto his own bunk.

He took a seat in one of the light blue overstuffed armchairs his squad bought and lugged in during a stop in Leonis eight months ago. "Belsinki, you have any food in that bottomless locker of yours?" he asked.

Belsinki rummaged through his locker with his sausage-sized fingers. "Nothing" the big man said in his deep voice.

"Uh, I have something" the father said. He pulled four foil wrapped packages out of his son's backpack and gave them to Belsinki. "Brought a couple of sandwiches along, but I figure you deserve them right now" he said. Alenko smiled.

"Thank you" he said. Belsinki divided each sandwich into halves and passed them around. Alenko sank his teeth into his first. "Mmm, corn beef!" he said.

"Is it just me, but do these sandwiches taste better just because we went through hell to earn them?" Venko asked. They all nodded. Corporal Ingrams tried to speak with his mouth full and sprayed breadcrumbs onto his shirt.

Alenko's thoughts went back to Picon. "How do you think the war's going?" he asked.

"The toasters got lucky at Picon, we're going to jump home just in time for the victory party" Venko said.

"No we're not. You saw what happened to our fleet. The same as us; they shut everything down, including the vipers. They were just hanging there in space like targets and the cylons were having a shooting exercise" Alenko said.

"If that happens to the entire fleet we're fracked" Belsinki said. Alenko shushed him and pointed to the kids. A smile appeared momentarily on his fat lips.

"I know" Alenko said. The ship shook slightly, and somewhere in the distance a keening alarm went off. All eight marine's hands went to the tools they had been carrying instead of rifles, but the alarms didn't spread to their sector

Alenko's thoughts returned to the people he'd left to suffocate. Their screams didn't leave him alone.

**Marlay:**

Marlay found herself in the back of a raptor strapped in next to the six-foot high rectangle of metal and glowing lights that was the FTL comm relay. "Set back there?" pilot 'Rango' asked.

"I'm good," she said.

"This is Raptor zero two two, requesting clearance to take off" his copilot 'Vendetta' said.

"Clearance granted, good flying" the LAS said.

The Raptor thrummed as its thrusters lifted it off the starboard hangar deck while its ground crew stepped back. Rango pushed the throttle forward and Marlay felt a pleasant tug as the craft accelerated down the hangar and into space: she'd always enjoyed flying.

As they flew away she turned in her seat to look at the _Vindication_. The battlestar had been a proud ship, with her perfectly curved, two-pronged shovelnose prow and elegant hull that sported dozens of powerful turrets. Now she was a cripple, her hull cratered and buckled and her back sagging.

"Poor _Vinny_, she never had a chance," Rango said sadly.

"Wait until we get her some drydock, she'll rack up a kill count longer than the Galactica's" Vendetta said eagerly. Marlay and Rango couldn't help but smile at the copilot's enthusiasm.

"Right, coordinates locked in, FTL drive spooling." The vanished in a flash of blue light

When it reappeared ten seconds later it had moved three light years closer to the colonies "We are in position. Lieutenant, you're up" Rango said.

Marlay keyed the relay and accessed a keyboard in the side.. 'We are in position' she typed out, entered the correct codes, and sent back the way they had come. The reply arrived a minute later in the form of a Kobol-priority message.

'She typed out the long string of coordinates that would broadcast it to every transmitter in the twelve colonies, and sent it.

"Message is away!" she said.

"Good, let's head back, entering jump coordinates" Rango said. The relay let out a high-pitched trill, indicating it had received a message. Rango stopped entering the coordinates and strained around in his harness to read.

Marlay's face went pale as she read the transmission. "Get us home, now please" she said. Rango pailed and obliged.

Huxton was getting his first moment of real peace in twelve hours when Marlay burst onto the bridge and went straight to her station. "Good job with the relay" he said, spinning his chair around to face her. She didn't acknowledge him. He noticed that her hands were shaking. "Something up?"

"Yes" she said in a small voice. She printed out a message and handed it to him. He looked it over once, and then grabbed the intercom.

"Attention please, this is commander Huxton" he began. Alenko and company looked up from the Triad game they had begun, wondering what further bad news there could be. Nessella and the DC crews stopped removing their gear to listen. In the overstuffed hospital the patients who could craned their necks to hear better over the screaming. Aelia sat up in her cot and put one hand over the bloody bandage on her temple. Rachel had been squeezing her other for the last hour. "Maybe its about Picon" Rachel said. "You think our families are okay?"

Aelia nodded. "Yeah, I hope." Her arms tingled as she imagined them wrapped around her younger sister and older brother.

Huxton took a deep breath and continued. "At twelve hundred hours-ten hours ago for those of you who have understandably lost track of time- a nuclear warhead with a fifty megaton yield was detonated over Caprica city by invading cylon forces. Additional detonations have been recorded in greater Caprica, Picon, Gemnon, and Tauron. Admiral Nagala has taken personal command of the fleet from the Battlestar Atlantia following the destruction of colonial military headquarters on Picon. This ship is carrying what is believed to be the only survivors of the fleet week celebrations. We are officially at war with the cylons."

"Oh my gods!" Aelia gasped. She and Rachel would remain frozen, hands covering their mouths in shock for a long time as they struggled to understand. Alenko buried his face in his hands and his squad had similar reactions. Cage's good hand went to his Gemmnon pendant and clutched it so tight the tips of the symbol drew blood.

Huxton wasn't done. "As of now we are stranded far from the home that needs her. I need every civilian to keep cooperate with enlisted personnel and stay out of thee way, and every enlisted man and woman to perform their duties the best of their abilities so we can repair the _Vindication_ and enter what may be the fight for the survival of the human race. Huxton out." He dropped the intercom and returned to his seat.

He heard a harsh whisper from Marlay. "Lets hope we got that transmission off in time."

Huxton took out his pad and began scribbling out his battle plans for their return.


	3. Part 3

**Part 3:**

**Day 2:**

**Huxton: **

Huxton left the second watch in charge of the weak but stabilized Vindication and stomped back to his cabin the way he had come. He checked his watch: it had been twenty-five hours since his arrival.

The corridor had changed. Ceilng panes dangled loose and burn marks scarred the grey walls. Civilians were huddled against either wall, sleeping or watching his haggard form with wide eyes. Outside his door something snagged his foot, and he stumbled, catching himself with one arm on the doorframe. He spun around, and saw a penny loafer quickly retracting. Its owner a man in his early twenties with sandy hair and acne scars on his cheeks giving him a wide-eyed stare. "I'm sorry," he said quickly.

"Try to trip me and you think sorry is going to work?" Huxton said.

The man cowered back and his voice shook as he insisted, "it was an accident, I didn't see you coming, I was tired and couldn't move my leg fast enough, I'm sorry sir."

Huxton's anger flared. "Wetting your pants does not let you off, boy." His fists came together. "I could break you for your crime."

The man choked and crawled a step back. "I was-"

Huxton leaned in. "Trying me for your sick laugh counts as assaulting an officer of the colonial fleet. Ten years in prison. Unless you're collaborating with the cylons to get at this battlestar's command staff, which seems to be the case."

The man's jaw dropped in shock. "What?"

Huxton opened his mouth, then the incredulity of what he was suggesting struck him. He covered it with a seething glare; "get out of here, while you still can." The man whimpered, leapt up and scampered off. Huxton spun around and stepped inside his room. He took several deep breaths to clear the haze in his vision then walked to his bathroom. "Looks like the meds are wearing off" he muttered, and wrapped his fingers around a small white bottle sitting on his sink next to his toothbrush. It had been given to him during an off-record visit to one of the ship's two psychologists, doctor Hugo Glassen. He twisted the top off-and found it empty. He sighed, "frack me." He opened the cabinet under his sink, and found only toilet paper rolls and towels. He sprinted out and dug through his night table, then his dresser. He tore through every storage space in his quarters to no avail.

He reached for his sidearm. "It's a plot, whoever infected the CNP is trying to drive you crazy." Then he shook his head. "No it isn't, you were running out of Harzic. A shipment was due from wherever Dr. Glassen gets it, after your shift was supposed to end today, remember?" He thought about visiting Doctor Glassen, and then remembered seeing his name on one of the fatality reports.

Huxton pulled off his dress uniform and put on a wrinkled white T-shirt and sweatpants. There was nothing else to do about the voices that were already whispering in his head until the Vindication returned to the colonies. He would have to hold himself together until then. He shut the lights and fell into bed, too tired even to pull the sheets over himself.

**Forty-One Years Earlier: **

A little brown eyed boy with a bowl cut and freckles flattened himself to the rough blue carpet of his bedroom floor as the burning viper screamed overhead, two raiders in pursuit. There was a nearby boom, and his window shattered, showering him in glass. He looked up. The glass face of the high rise across the street had shattered, and was being licked by orange flames.

Adriatic Huxton's door opened, he spun around and saw the terrified face of his mother, Iria. "Mommy!" he said.

She ran over and cradled him with shaking arms. "Come on Adry we're leaving." Adriatic looked back at the burning building as she carried him out, and wondered how many of his friends living there had died. Iria bore him down the spiral staircase and across their large apartment.

"Where are we going?" The apartment building shook, and Adriatic heard his sister's shrill scream.

His mother was breathless with fear. "We're getting to a shelter Adry, we're going to be safe." They burst into the entry foyer. Adriatic's twelve-year-old brother Eli was crouched by the front door, hands over his ears. His eight year old sister Erica was cradled in his father's arms, her face buried in his sweater.

Jon opened the door. "Lets go, the shelter on Eighteenth Street is open." He led them out into their building's staircase.

Delphi was burning. Adriatic could see the basestar hovering over the city's center and the lights of raiders buzzing around it. The Colonial fleet in orbit had been shattered, and two basestars and close to a million centurions had landed in the five hundred mile stretch between Caprica City and Delphi. The Planetary Defense force was overwhelmed, their grey uniforms were predominant on the bodies littering the streets. The rattle of gunfire came from all sides but Adriatic couldn't determine the source. Families ran in every direction while columns of guardsmen and marines advanced into the furnace that had become the city center.

The Huxton family arrived at the black dome of the eighteenth street shelter, beneath the shattered spires of Museum of Humanity, where Adriatic would later learn five thousand three hundred and sixty two men, women, and children taking shelter had gone up when firebombs had hit it.

They approached the door. A gravelly male voice rang out. "Go away!" The door slammed shut.

An artillery salvo landed somewhere down the block, cracking the pavement and rocking them. Iria curled up into a ball on the ground with Adriatic at its center. "Let us in" she screamed.

Jon put Erica down next to her and walked forward. "Is the shelter full?" he said.

The man replied, "No, it's just me and my wife, now go away."

Jon rapped on the door. "That shelter was built for a hundred people, open up."

"We're not sharing with strangers, go away."

"There's a war going on outside, and you're worried about strangers?"

"Get out of here, go on, there are other shelters." The night sky lit up briefly as something detonated. Adriatic whimpered.

Jon advanced on the door and drew his thirty-eight special revolver. He grabbed the hamdle and strained against it, muscles bulging. It came open an inch or two, enough for him to force the revolver's snub nose in the gap. "Open this door or I will shoot you and your wife!" He suddenly leaned back as a machete blade stabbed out, narrowly missing his face.

"You're going to have to" the reply came. There was a moment of silence as they faced off.

Adriatic didn't understand. He cried "shoot them dad, shoot them."

Instead Jon backed away, trembling. The door slammed shut. "I can't, I can't," he said. No one said anything.

"Where do we go?" Erica wailed

"Eighth street, there's a shelter there." They threaded through the back alleys, past the occasional body or individual huddled in the shadows. At Twelfth Street Jon looked out, and pulled back. "Cylons, a platoon of them at least" he hissed. "Up here." He led them to a door and kicked it open. They tumbled inside and he shut it. They were in the storage room of what appeared to be a grocery store. The lights were dimmed, casting long shadows over the crates of food. Adriatic shivered in the still functional air condition.

"Are we safe?" Erica asked from Jon's arms.

He smiled. "We should be, as long as we stay quiet." He led them to the far corner, and they sat down together. Adriatic curled up in Iria's arms. He hear her whisper to him:

"You're not safe here, run."

"We're not safe," he declared. "Right mommy."

Iria stared at him in confusion, "I didn't say anything."

"You did, I heard you." Then he heard the female voice in his ear again.

"Run Adry, run." He squirmed out of Iria's arms, and tottered away.

"Adriatic!" she hissed, and crawled after him. He ducked between two crates and curled up against the cold wall. She reached in after him but he was tucked too deep. "Come out here now, we're staying together."

Adriatic shook his head, but looked back at her. He didn't see what happened next, apart from his mother looking away. He only heard a crunch and his mother's scream. Then there was burst of gunfire, and she fell silent. Adriatic backed further into his hiding spot. He could just see her slumped at the entrance. Her eyes were open and staring at a point next to him, her jaw slack. The metal foot of a centurion came down on her face, crushing it into a red pulp before rising again as it walked past.

He heard his brother and sister scream, his dad cry out "mercy!" Then gunfire drowned them all out.

** Day 3:**

** Huxton: **

The CIC was fully staffed for the first time since the war had begun. Huxton stood at the head of the tactical command table that occupied the center of the bridge, watching Nessella's simulation of the colonies play out on its surface. With him were Cage and the Lieutenant Grissom, chief navigator.

Nessella brought up a map of the four star systems that made up the greater 'Cyrannus system.' "I have marked the colonies that have been hit in red. The green arrows are predicted fleet movements based on the different situation drills over the years" she said. The first system, where Caprica and Gemonon shared an orbit, was blitzed with red and its few green arrows were retreating out. The next star system contained the gas giant Zeus, around which orbited Picon, Scorpia, and Leonis. Virgon sat slightly further inwards. The colonial fleet had rallied from the other systems to Virgon, and appeared to be preparing to move towards the gas giant. Meanwhile, the system containing Tauron was surprisingly devoid of fleet activity.

Cage seemed shocked by the readout. "So we're abandoning almost two systems?" Without thinking he tried to scratch his broken arm, which was held up in a sling, and winced.

Nessella nodded sadly. "The fleet is running low on options. The amount of firepower required to overwhelm the palentary and orbital defenses of any of the colonies is massive. Even in an even fight the cylon fleet required to do so would be large enough to threaten our space superiority over any of these colonies hit. The fleet is falling back and gathering all its forces so it can crush the invasion in one blow."

Huxton grunted. "Or so the cylons can annihilate the opposition in one battle." He moved forward and examined the map. "Worry about the _Vinny_ right now. In her current condition a cylon drifting through space could kick a hole in her hull. We need to jump to a safe port with the smallest chance of combat." He examined the map. Only one system hadn't been touched yet.

Grissom pointed at one of the colonies in that system. "How about Libris? It's heavily defended, away the battle, and has one of the largest docking facilities in the colonies."

Huxton shook his head. "Libris facilities are civilian and it's the largest target in the system. We should try Canceron, or Sagittaron." He placed his finger on the other two colonies in that system.

"Canceron lacks the capability to handle a battlestar, and Sagitarron's yards are for scrapping ships, last time I checked they were filled. We'd find spare parts there, but nothing to repair them with." Cage said.

Nessella looked at Huxton. "Libris is our best bet."

Huxton sighed. "Fine then. Grissom, plot a course for Libris. Take us far enough away from the colony that if its under attack we can jump away again."

Grissom saluted, "yes sir." They returned to their stations. Huxton picked up his phone and dialed engineering.

"CIC to engineering, what's the status of the FTL drive?"

****"Kelso to Bridge, the FTL drive is green across the board." the reply came.

"Good, prepare to jump." Huxton hung up. "Condition one throughout the ship. Set the clock at five minutes."

**Aelia:**

Aelia was sitting up in her cot in the overcrowded hospital, staring at her lap. Rachel had left to find them a place to stay on the ship, but she was stuck here with a cracked skull. She couldn't look around her, every time she saw the horrific burns and crushed limbs the patients around her had, she threw up on her sheets.

The alarms abruptly began wailing and several needles stabbed into her skull. She covered her ears and dove under the cot, expecting the deck under her feet to begin shaking at any moment.

Instead a male voice boomed over the loudspeakers. "Five minutes, mark, five minutes."

"We aren't under attack" Radin reassured her from the cot next to hers. His arms were wrapped in bandages and his face had several angry red splotches.

Aelia poked her head out. Her cheeks tingled when she noticed several patients staring at her. "Then what's happening?"

Radin smiled. "We're going home." Home. She wondered what was left. There would still be a few distant relatives who her parents kept in touch with. There might still be the mansion against the mountain on Virgon's northern continent. But it wouldn't be her home without her family's bright smiles, her little sister to look out for, or her older brother to watch over her. "You okay?" Radin asked. Aelia had frozen kneeling next to her cot, one hand on the mattress and a sad look on her face.

"Yes" she said quickly, then pulled herself back on and curled up under the sheets.

**Huxton:**

The jump coordinates were entered. The turret were loaded and crewed with men and women eager to use them in retribution for the previous days of disaster. The _VIndication_'s remaining one hundred vipers had been prepped and slotted into their launch tubes. The countdown reached zero.

Grissom inserted his glowing blue key into the navigation computer and announced, "jumping." He twisted it. The _Vindication_ vanished from space in a flash of blue light as her FTL drive connected two points in space simoultaneously.

She reappeared nine light years away, in Libris' orbit. Grissom checked the navigation computer and reported. "We are in orbit three hundred k klicks from Libris."

"No contacts on DRADIS" Nessella said.

Marlay scratched her chin, like Huxton scratching his beard in thought. "Andromeda station is half a million klicks from our current position. Its civilian traffic should be filling DRADIS and occupying every civilian radio frequency, not even mentioning what should be coming off Libris itself." A tingle ran up Huxton's spine.

"Scan the station, then put Libris on visual" he said. A quick DRADIS sweep and transponder search confirmed what he'd feared. Andromeda station was a blasted wreck ten kilometers across, surrounded by the debris from hundreds, if not thousands of civilian ships. Leonis appeared on the visual feed, occupying a third of the screen. Something seemed amiss on its surface, but in the heavy cloud cover it was hard for him or his officers to tell.

Nessella guessed it first. "It might be lens glare, but Libris seems to be glowing."

"Zoom in to low orbit magnification" Huxton ordered. The planet filled the screen. His jaw clamped shut on the gasp that rose out of his chest. Several officers weren't so controlled.

The surface of Libris was normally crisscrossed by the grid of sprawling cities of gass filled with resorts and pleasure establishments, fuelled by the colony's status as the banking capitol of the Cyrannus system. Those cities were gone, replaced by the flash and glowing circular scars of heavy nuclear bombardment.

There were several minutes of silence on the bridge.

Nessella finally recovered her wits enough to whisper "my gods."

"This isn't a war," Huxton began. "This is genocide, of _us_. Launch the CAP and a scouting party. Marlay, begin transmitting this message at sublight frequencies." He walked over to her. "This is the Colonial Battlestar _Vindication_, serial number eight, four, four, seven six, two, d, h, one. Any ships hearing this signal regardless of military or civilian designation are to rendezvous with us immediately."

"Is there even a fleet left? I'm seeing a lot of destroyed cruisers here" Cage said.

The thought that this one battlestar and the souls onboard could be the last colonial fleet personnel in existence was terrifying to Huxton. He maintained his confident expression though. "We have no idea, but until confirmed otherwise there is still some extant of the colonial military remaining" he answered.

**Cross:**

'Cross' was pressed into his seat by the g-forces as his viper was spat from the catapult into space. He checked that the rest of Black Squadron had launched. "Alright boys and girls, set up standard patrol formation, lets hope we get ourselves a couple of cylons."

"What about the scout party?" Slammer said.

Cross began orbiting the _Vindication_ at an altitude of five hundred meters. "They are going in unescorted, we don't have enough birds left to cover them." He saw four raptors launch from the open hatches of the starboard landing bay and descend to Libris.

**Marlay:**

Marlay felt a faint spark of hope as somewhere near the mass grave of Andromeda she picked up a reply. It was filtered into her headset, a shaking male voice. "Battlestar _Vindication_, can you hear me? This is captain Ellion Tussin of the colonial heavy liner _Alera_, we have received your transmission, please respond."

She replayed the message for Huxton. "Commander should we reply?" she asked.

Huxton thought for a moment. "I want the _Alera_ located first." Tracing the signal back, Marlay was able to give its general location for a quick high intensity DRADIS scan. Not just the _Alera_, but five civilian ships were detected. It was a hopeful thing to see. "Reply," Huxton said.

She happily did so. "_Alera_, this is the battlestar _Vindication_, we hear you."

There was a long exhale of relief on the other end. "Thank the gods _Vindication,_ you're a wonderful sight. We were beginning to think we were the only one's left."

"Not yet. Do you have any word on the other colonies or the fleet? We've been out of communications for the two days."

"Nothing, our caravan was halfway to Libris when the full stop on travel was ordered. I figured we'd fly into Andromeda and wait it out, but you saw the wreckage." The five ships closed with the battlestar and pulled up beneath it like baby chicks under their mother hen.

"Send them jump coordinates for deep space," Huxton instructed.

"Huh?" Grissom asked.

Huxton paused for a second to collect his thoughts."If the cylons come back, we all need a place to jump to safely, set a jump point in deep space we can fall back to." Grissom quickly did so.

**Prometheus:**

On the surface of Libris, Raptor crew 'Prometheus' and 'Taurin' piloted their bird a hundred feet above the remains of a suburb. "Raptor 0-21 to flight control, we have no survivors" 'Prometheus' reported. The highway became an eerily still housing development. Squinting through his binoculars, Taurin could see bodies lining the streets and the lines of bullet holes in the cars and houses.

"I've got evidence of small arms usage, it looks like the centurions went through anything the nukes missed," he said.

"Copy that 0-21, continue on your present course" Cage replied. The houses became a shopping mall, its entrance a mass of wrecked cars, many stained with blood. Taurin shook his head sadly and looked away. His eyes went to the mall itself. Something caught his eye.

"I've got movement, second floor window next to the Capri-mart billboard" he called. Prometheus followed his pointing finger.

"This is Raptor 0-21, we have movement, requesting permission to zoom in and examine the situation" he said.

"Go ahead 0-21, be careful" Cage replied.

"We will." Taurin flipped off the safety catch on his assault rifle and moved from the copilot's chair to the cabin. Prometheus armed the Raptor's twin twenty-millimeter cannons and cut the thrusters, dropping the bird in a slow dive towards the window. He pulled up just short and Taurin lowered the boarding ramp into open space.

"Colonial Fleet!" he shouted over the roar of the engines. An elderly man in a dust covered business suit ducked into view. Then a second, younger man carrying a bloodstained woman. Then came two children who couldn't have been older than eleven.

"We have survivors, bringing them in," Prometheus reported. He swung the Raptor around so its ramp was touching the windowsill. Taurin smiled and beckoned them forward.

**Huxton:**

In orbit, four basestars flashed into existence, surrounding the _Vindication._ DRADIS became a red blur as hundreds of raiders burst from their hangars and raced forwards. The alarms wailed and the crew steeled themselves. "Lets hope we found their only surprise" Huxton said.

The lead raider's single red eye traversed over the battlestar, illuminating it blood red.

Nessella's computer beeped once. The screen flickered and her heart jumped, but it held. "Cylon Trojan is ineffective," she announced over the intercom. The bridge crew almost cheered.

Huxton remained tense, expecting something else. "All batteries open fire. Flak loads. Pull the CAP back and spin up FTL"

The _Vindication'_s turrets, main and secondary traversed to meet the raider swarm coming at it from topside, and opened fire. The bursts of shrapnel where their shells detonated cut through the tightly packed formation, disintegrating as many as five at a time.

Cross' squadron was a tiny blue blip against a veritable ocean of red, but his pilots were eager for payback and bloodlust was rising inside of him. He shouted "they can't fry us, lets take them" and pointed his nose at the oncoming swarm.

"Negative Cross, CAP is to return home, we're getting out of here," Nessella said.

"Roger" Cross said reluctantly. The knights made an about face and streamed back into the port hangar pod. As his fighter thumped into the deck, Cross cursed. Then a missile strike to the hangar slammed his Viper forward several meters.

Huxton nearly fell over as the first missile exploded. "All civilian ships are away" A Lieutenant said.

"Good, get us out of here" he ordered. A second missile detonated amidships and cracked the already weakened armor over the _Vindication_'s belly.

"I've got four raptors plus civilians planet side, give them one minute!" Cage said.

Huxton shook his head. "Negative, they're too far out, sorry."

**Prometheus:**

Prometheus only heard Cage's response, but the knew what was happening. "Buckle up in back!" he shouted, and fired his main thrusters.

"What's happening?" Taurin asked.

"They're leaving us, lets move!" Prometheus said and pushed the throttle down. The rear cabin's occupants were pinned screaming to the back when he accelerated upwards.

Nessella turned the key just as a third missile rocked the bridge.

Prometheus's radio link went dead. He looked up into the red sky. Two dark shapes appeared. He barely had time to shout "Frak!" before a missile slammed into the raptor's fuel tanks. He was wreathed in flames. The bird exploded and dropped from the sky. The raider orbited the burning wreckage once to verify there were no survivors, and then moved on.

**Huxton:**

The _Vindication_ reappeared three hundred million miles away, thrusters facing the civilian ships. Huxton looked away from Cage still begging him to go back. His voice was weak when he spoke. "Damage report."

"Moderate armor damage, nothing we can't repair" Nessella said.

Huxton sat back in his chair and watched the near-empty DRADIS screen. He had been running on adrenaline for the past three days, but that was running out, and everything that had happened was beginning to crash down on him.

Cage stepped up to him, his face twisted in anger. "Commander, a word with you please."

"Lets take this off the CIC" he said. They stepped outside and waved the marine guard away. "What's bothering you?" he asked the slightly shorter man, hiding his exhaustion behind a perfectly straight face.

Cage pushed his glasses up his face with his good arm. "You left four raptors behind on Libris; eight of our flight crew and a couple of civilian survivors. They're either dead or going to die, and for what? A few armor plates?"

Huxton wanted to calm him, but sleep deprivation and stress had worn his nerves thin. He leaned in close so his nose was almost touching Cage's. "I left them because if I didn't we would all die. This ship is barely airtight in its current state, and you want me to take it against four base stars in a straight up fight?" Cage opened his mouth to object but Huxton quickly closed it: "I had a hard choice to make, Major Elliot Cage, but I made it: ten people for this ship and the six thousand four hundred and forty six more on board, that's a fair trade."

Cage slammed his right fist into his open palm. "You made the same choice with the hangar pod and sector nine. How many more times can you make that choice? You saw the nuclear fires as well as I did; the body count is high enough without you adding more to it. We need to save everyone we can Commander, there might not be many people left to save as it is" he pleaded. Huxton narrowed his eyes.

He lowered his voice until it was but a whisper. "I _will_ make that choice as many times as I have to. Now, we are both needed in the bridge right now to save what's left of the human race, so I suggest you stop wasting my time with questions you should know the answer to by now, or I will return to the bridge and throw you in the brig for insubordination, is that clear Major?"

Marlay stepped out-and almost retreated right back behind the safe meter thick walls when she saw the two men eye to eye with flames between them. Huxton heard her footsteps and faced her.

"Go ahead lieutenant" he growled.

"An automated transmission just came in from deep space. It's a whisper, probably was bounced off an old satellite. Its priority Kobol."

Huxton swiveled around to face Cage again. "Which choice are you taking?" Cage shook his head sadly and walked past him into the bridge. Huxto and Marlay followed him.

Huxt found the paper facedown and unread on his desk, and picked it up. His eyes stopped at the first line, and traversed down the long list of names. Something twitched inside of him, stomach or heart he couldn't tell. He picked up the intercom again. Nessella must've noticed the faint tremble in his arm, as her expression fell to one of worry.

Huxton put the microphone to his mouth. "Your attention please, this is the Commander. Twenty-four hours ago Admiral Nagala was killed in action when the battlestar _Atlantia _was destroyed in orbit of Virgon, along with what appears to be the entirety of the colonial fleet excluding us. This was followed by the nuclear bombardment of all the previously surviving colonies." The shock ran through the ship like a nuclear detonation's concussion wave. They had failed, been too late in their warning. The _Vindication_ hadn't been there when the colonies had needed her the most. Everyone they ever knew outside of her cratered hull was gone. Huxton's hands were very visibly shaking now. "As of now, we are the last battlestar in existence, and the human race has become an endangered species." The words burst the heart of every man, woman, and child aboard the _Vindication_.

Huxton sat down slowly in his chair. "May the gods look after us" he heard Cage whisper.

Nessella walked over to him. "What's the plan Commander? you always have one."

Huxton rested his chin on one hand. "In a smaller scale situation like a fleet group being lost, we would regroup with the survivors first."

"If there are any others, then what? We have no safe port, and we can't hide forever."

Huxton knew his answer, but the circumstances weren't right for it at the moment. "I'll get to that when we need to" he said. "Launch a CAP, and all Raptors. The Raptors are going to search every military rendezvous, every smuggling route, and every place a ship could hide or could conceivably be, and bring anyone they find back here. Give them both our current coordinates and our retreat coordinates so they won't be left behind again" he said. Cage's head jerked in a slight nod

The Raptors were launched, all thirty-six surviving birds. They vanished into FTL. "How long do we wait?" Nessella asked.

"Set the clock for ninety-six hours, after that anyone still in a ship now will be dead, found, or long gone." He sat back and waited, one eye on DRADIS and one eye on tactical. His officers went through the motion of their duties, but there was no heart left in their actions.

An hour later Raptor zero delta two niner flashed back into existence. "This is 'Andromeda', we've got a Tylium tanker incoming" the pilot announced. Moments later a seven hundred meter ship appeared behind it. It was a metal framework sporting a small crew compartment at the top and carrying seven immense fuel drums end to end.

When she spoke Marlay's voice contained a slight hint of energy. "This is the battlestar _Vindication, _welcome in _Haurik City_, we'll be needing your cargo very soon."

"Roger, be advised _Vindication_, we are half-empty at this time" her captain warned. The relief at finding another survivor cushioned the impact of his statement.

Barely thirty seconds later Raptor zero delta two seven returned with a Lyre medium cruiser. The vessel's cinderblock shaped hull was pockmarked and cracked from missile hits, and it moved with the clumsiness of a ship with half her engines out. Huxton stepped forward and took the call himself. "This is Commander Huxton, battlestar _Vindication_, please identify yourself colonial cruiser."

"This is Colonel Iris of the cruiser _Ceres_, zero eight two four sigma seven one, assigned to BSG-89" a tired female voice replied.

Nessella verified the serial number. "Come alongside _Ceres_ and tell us what you need. We're putting together every ship we can find."

"At lest that's a plan. We've been hiding in the Erebus belt since the cylons took out the rest of our group at the Scorpian shipyards, no idea what to do except avoid the cylons."

The five hundred and fifty meter long _Ceres _came about by the starboard hangar pod and dropped a request for Cobra medium antiship missiles.

Thirty minutes later raptor zero delta zero three returned with a Tiger Mk1 Faststar that had been on long range patrol, and a _Kodiak_ transport that had fled Sagittaron, and mage an impossibly lucky blind jump within its DRADIS range. The surviving ships continued to stream in alone or in small groups. There were several lone Raptors and shuttles in desperate need of air, and then a Phantom MK III faststar arrived. It lacked the heavy railgun batteries that made the Tiger class a cruiser killer, but made up for it with its boosted sensor arrays.

There were several light cruisers, and a pair of flak cruisers showed up, covered in antifighter weaponry. Another medium cruiser arrived six hours in, followed by several light cruisers and a gunstar. All had either bolted during the opening attack, or been lucky enough to have their computer network offline or never upgraded, so they could flee while their entire fleet groups were rendered helpless.

The civilian ships ranged from passenger shuttles meant for short FTL hops to passenger liners to a convoy of ore mining ships to a pair of massive Space Park lines housing thousands of civilians in their rotating wheel segments.

The shift changed eight hours and thirty ships later. Huxton returned to his quarters. He showered quickly and lay down on his bed. There was a knock at his door before he could drift off though. "Who is it?" he asked, and reached for a fresh pair of pants.

"Me" Nessella said. He considered his course of action, then pulled on proper clothes and undid the three deadbolts holding the door shut. Nessella stood on the other side. He hadn't seen her informally since the evening before Picon, and she'd changed much since then. Her eyes were red from exhaustion and her red hair was falling from the bun she normally wore it in. er normally straight and proud figure had begun to hunch over.

He said, "Well you've looked better."

She shook her head and cracked grin. Her smile was missing two teeth on the let side. "Well no offense Commander, but you look like week old bread." Huxton's fingers went to the beard that had snuck up on him sometime in the last three days. Then they left his face as Nessella stepped in and he threw his arms around her. Her smooth hair against his cheek. Faint lilac perfume in his nose, warm bodies pressed together.

After a minute by his wristwatch just below his face, Huxton asked; "falling asleep there, Amy?"

"Yes" she whispered, and seemed to let herself slump into him.

"I'd love to sleep with you, but I don't think this is the time to tire ourselves out." There was a moment's pause. Then they burst into laughter. It was loud, and sounded uncanny, but he laughed with her until his ribs began to ache. Amy took a step back, then leaned in and kissed him.

Huxton kept his hands on her shoulders, but couldn't peel the wide smile off his face. "Nice to know you're mind's in the right place, speaking of your mind, that's why I'm here, to see how you're doing," Their little moment of bliss was over.

Huxton thought for an instant on that. "I don't know. I'm out of meds, and I'm starting to feel it, the voices are whispering, and I snapped on some foor civilian who fell asleep in the wrong place."

Nessella shook her head and adjust his head until he was stareing directly into her green eyes. "Look at me Adriatic." He nodded. "You're going to be fine, you can hold it together."

"The human race needs me to."

She nodded. "Exactly. I am here for you, no matter what, remember that." Huxton nodded. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on her, just her."

"Thank you Amy." He kissed her this time.

"I have to grab some rack, and I'm sure you do to. Remember, if you need me"

"I'll be there" huxton finished. He opened the door for her. As she walked by he tagged her on the shoulder with his hand. Her hand met it briefly, and then she was gone.


	4. Part 4

**41 years before the fall of the colonies:**

**Huxton:**

Dawn's first sunlight streamed into the small crack between the two boxes Huxton was curled up between. It illuminated the crushed rmains of his mother. Huxton looked up at it. The cylons were long gone. After the shooting had stopped they'd stayed in the store for hours, then moved on. Huxton didn't crawl out. He wanted to stay in his little hiding place forever, until he wasted away into a skeletal body. He couldn't crawl out past his mother and see what the toasters had done to his siblings and father.

However, his stomach growled and his bladder ached. Huxton hated himself for not facing the pain and letting himself die, but he crawled out, soaked his hands and pants on his mother's blood. He spent several minutes looking around the storage room before standing up and relieving himself a few feet away. Then he turned around and walked back. His father had tackled Erica and Eli to the wooden floot, but the bullets had punched straight through his body and killed them anyways. They were just a bloody mess. Huxton collapsed ot his knees, and felt the tears well up.

A gravelly voice wafted in through the splintered door. "Honey, hurry up, they'll see us in another minute. He froze. That voice, he recognized it. That man, who wouldn't let them into the shelter, who killed them. Anger welled up inside him. Huxton heard two sets of footsteps approaching the store. He was going to do what daddy should have done. He ducked below the row of crates.

His eyes fell on something glinting in the light: the thirty-eight special. An idea formed, in his sweat streaked skull. He crawled forwards and wrapped his stubby fingers around its handgrip. It was heavy in his hands, but he still lifted it, and found the trigger as he'd seen his father do. The footsteps came closer.

"You check that shop honey, goddamn bunker's food was spoiled by some fool years ago" the man growled. Huxton tensed. He crawled until the door was visible, and aimed through it. A middle aged woman with long greying hair and a grey cotton dress appeared in the doorway.

As her eyes widened, he pressed the handgrip against his shoulder and pulled the trigger with two figners. The gun exploded, and kicked him onto his back, his shoulder burst with agony. The woman's stomach seemed to burst. With a scream she fell back.

"Honey!" Huxton crawled over to the pistol and raised it agaian, a little higher this time. The man appeared. He was slightly older, and had wild grey hair and an unkempt beard. His machete was brandished before him. He stopped when he saw his wife feebly twitching in the doorway. Huxton saw the look of wild fear in his pale blue eyes. Then they weren't his eyes, but Jon Hallard's deep brown ones, and it wasn't a dying woman, but two children reflected in them.

Huxton pulled the trigger. His chest exploded from the impact of the hollowpoint bullet. He seemed to jerk once. His gaze met Huxton's glare. Then he toppled backwards. Huxton lay where the impact of hard metal handgrip on undeveloped shoulder had thrown him. He didn't move, he couldn't.

Three days later a trio of Colonial Deathwatch commandos broke through the front door. They were charred from the blast of the basestar and weary from carrying and placing the nuclear bomb they had used to destroy it. The found a small boy lying on top of what they assumed were his family, and carried him with them through the rapidly stabilizing colonial lines twenty miles to the south.

**Day Five:**

** Huxton:**

Fifteen kilometers above the _Vindication_'s prow a raptor and the much longer 'mobile city' of a marine transport jumped in. Huxton took the mic. "Welcome to the fleet, marine transport _Argo_, we may have use for you just yet. Please send a dossier of your cargo and a list of supplies you require." There were two thousand marines plus light armor and a squadron of tanks-a full regiment-aboard the ship. Raptor zero delta zero six had stumbled across it near the dust cloud known as Big Red.

Huxton instructed the camera to swing around to he could have a look at their handful of survivors. There were seventy-eight civilian ships, which together had enough variation in function and equipment to satisfy most of their basic survival needs for the forseeable future. There were and additional twenty-seven colonial fleet ships. Three were munitions freighters, one was a repair ship, and the last two had been commandeered from the Sagittaron scrapyards. The rest were warships. Huxton was disappointed by the lack of battlestars and battleships, but there were still six medium cruisers, seven light cruisers, two flak cruisers, a gunstar, a missile cruiser, the two faststars, and the _Argo_, which was modestly armed. AThey all had different stories, but two elements were common: blind luck and a decision not to rendevouz at Virgon.

Huxton finished reading the fleet roster, and though he felt a sense of despair he kept his blank expression on. "This is less than I expected."

He noticed Cage reading over his shoulder. "It's sad, looking at it, this is the entirety of the human race. How many people is this? Eighty, ninety thousand souls?"

Huxton turned to him. "It is better than there being just us."

"We shouldn't have to be doing this."

Huxton shook his head, and raised his voice so the rest of the CIC crew could hear. "Shouldn't doesn't mean anything Cage. We are here, right now, leading what is probably all that's left of the human race. You can fantasize that you're back wherever in the colonies you came from, but that doesn't change a thing in the real world. Throw your back into your duties, we have some vengeance to wreak."

Marlay spun around in her chair to face him. He saw a flicker of light in her now sunken eyes. "Is that what we're doing, sir?"

_The man toppled backwards, a gaping hole in his chest_. "The cylons took everything from us a smile on their chrome faces, they are not walking away with this, so long as we live." Marlay and several men and women nodded. Nessella patted his back as she walked past him.

"Major, how many ships do you reckon are out there?" he said.

Cage examined his console. "None, I'm afraid we got them all."

"What makes you think so?"

"The raptors have scanned ninety percent of the system. All they are finding now is wrecks and cylons. There could be other ships hiding but they'll be hiding deep enough in structures like the Erebus asteroid belt and big red, or far enough beyond the system that we'll need weeks and more fuel than we possess to find them all."

"How many raptors are still out?"

"Five; zero delta zero four, zero delta one five, zero delta two two, and zero delta three nine, the rest are refueling or receiving new crews."

"What are our current fuel supplies?"

Nessella answered. "Our tanks are fifty-four percent full."

Huxton quickly weighed the factors and made his decision. "Cease S&R efforts. Grissom, plot the fleet a new rendevouz point. As soon as those birds return we're bugging out."

Four of the raptors returned after an hour leading a fleet of evacuation shuttles and raptors from the Leonis shipyards. The fifth jumped in five minutes later. "This is Rango, raptor zero delta zero two, there's a convoy on our heels" the pilot announced. Huxton tensed.

A missile cruiser flashed into being. Then came a light cruiser and another Lyre class. Then a line of fifteen civilian ships appeared. "Hang on, we're one short" Rango said.

A final blue flare stung Huxton's eyes and a _Berserker_-class heavy cruiser appeared above the convoy. Its eight hundred fifty meter densely armored bulk dwarfed almost every ship in the convoy.

The radio crackled before Marlay or him could hail it. "Battlestar Vindication, this is _Gehennia-_actual, Lieutenant Commander Ravin. We are damn glad to see our group isn't alone out here. Permission to join up?"

The name rang a bell, but through his blazing headache Huxton couldn't remember from where. He eagerly answered the officer, though. "Be my guest, take up rearguard position." The _Gehennia_ led her charges into the formation, increasing its size by an appreciable degree. The cruiser passed directly over the _Vindication_ as she went, offering an inspiring view for the thousands of eyes watching her.

"Lieutenant Commander Ravin?" a lieutenant said. "As in the Lieutenant Commander Tarleton Ravin?"

Huxton raised his eyebrows. "I know that name somewhere, who is he?" Most of the bridge crew nodded with his assessment.

Thoem smiled and nodded vigorously. "Every serviceman from Leonis knows him. He was the first Leonan commander in the colonial fleet." Now Huxton knew him. Ravin had become a war hero for leading the evacuation of Hauric city, Caprica, during the opening battle of the first cylon war. From there he'd alternated between fighting cylons and using his fame on his home colony to inspire more Leonans to join the colonial fleet.

"You've got quite a fleet here, is this everyone?" Revin asked.

Huxton took another look at his ships. "I'm afraid so."

"Our radioman received a garbled transmission from the battlestar _Galactica_ seventy-four hours ago, do you copy?"

"Have we searched Ragnar?" Hucton asked.

Nessella nodded. "Raptor zero deltar one eight found the gunstar there and fighter wreckage from us and them, nothing more."

Huxton took the mic. "_Gehennia_-actual, we have searched Ragnar. There was no sign of the _Galactica_, or the battlestar _Aurora, _which I recall was on permanent station in orbit of Ragnar. Both are presumed destroyed or having deserted."

"Understood."

"Commander, I've got a distress call here," Marlay announced.

"Hang on Revin, play it Marlay" Huxton said.

A burst of static tore through the speakers, almost drowning out the words following it. "This is commander John Imlay of the battlestar _Serpentia_, we need immediate assistance from any remaining ships. The ship is under attack by multiple basestars and has been boarded. We cannot jump away, repeat, we need assistance."

"This just came in, origin is being triangulated" Marlay said. With an actual staff she would've assigned it to two junior comm officers.

The possibility of another battlestar surviving was the brightest glimmer of hope Huxton had had in days. He knew how much additional protection and firepower it would offer. "Go to condition one and send all marines to the raptors. As soon as the coordinates arrive feed them to the FTL drive, we're rescuing that battlestar" he ordered. He switched from the _Gehennia_'s private frequency to the frequency designated for general fleet usage. "This is Commander Huxton. We have picked up a distress call from the Battlestar _Serpentia_ and the fleet will assist. We come in in two waves. _Vindication _will be the first wave. _Gehennia_ and her escorts_, _and the _Ceres_ and gunstar _Andanatos _will be the second wave, you will await our order to jump in." He heard affirmatives from the various commanding officers. The assigned ships broke away from the fleet and maneuvered to a safe jump distance.

"You can't just leave us" one of the civilian captains complained. Cage was already entering the jump coordinates.

Huxton rolld his eyes "We are not leaving you, we are mounting a rescue operation and will be back shortly"

"What if you're not?"

"Then command of the fleet will fall to the _Cassiopiea_" Huxton replied.

"The board is green" Grissom said.

"Jump" he ordered. He felt a small jolt of static electricity, and the _Vindication_ jumped.

In the hangar pod Alenko and his squad clambered inside Raptor 0-22 and strapped in. "Ready for some payback boys?" he asked. They nodded and primed their rifles. In the cockpit Rango's fingers tensed around the throttle.

Cross clambered into his viper's cockpit. "Now we'll be getting some action" he growled over the radio.

His pilots began chanting a bloodthirsty "so say we all!"

The _Vindication_ emerged half a light year away. Huxton did a quick survey of the battlefield. There was a lone Mercury class heavy battlestar reading hull perforation one hundred and eighty kilometers distant, surrounded by three basestars and a half-sized light basestar. Hundrds of fighter icons swirled around the _Serpentia_, though most of them were cylon red.

Huxton gave his orders. "The nearest bastar is almost in our spinal arnament's sights. Target it, with full AP load and fire until it goes down. Helm, put us between the _Serpentia_ and the remaining basestars. LSO, launch all vipers at a range of fifty kilometers."

The _Vindication_ had four railguns mounted in her nose and running through her for over half her total length. Their first salvo of 2000-millimeter shells crumbled the basestar 's topside. The second punched through its hull and ignited its Tylium reservoirs, wreathing the ship in flames. The third broke its upper three-pronged hull into several semimolten chunks. The fourth speared through its central column and lower hull, reducing the basestar to a cluster of hull pieces, superheated gasses, and internal wreckage slowly drifting apart in space. The _Vindication_ flew straight through the cloud and positioned itself between the listing _Serpentia_ and the remaining basestars.

"Primary batteries, target the damaged ship first," Huxton ordered. The turrets on her back swung around and opened up on the already cratered basestar. "Launch all raptors, fighter squadrons cover them," he ordered.

**Cross:**

Cross's craft shot out of the catapult. He let it fly a safe distance from the _Vindication_ and swug it around to bear on the besieged _Serpentia_. "Alright, all fighters lets clean house!" He pushed the throttle to the maximum.

The fighter wing hit the unprepared raider cloud from behind. Cross and his wingman dove at three raiders preparing another strafing run at the _Serpentia_'s internally ignited port side. Their tracers closed on one, slicing it to shard before they whipped past. They fired their maneuvering thrusters and the vipers practically danced around to face the survivors, before killing them with quick bursts of fire.. "Good shooting Slammer" Cross said and swung his craft around.

A heavy raider whipped towards him, but had a fatal encounter with another viper's missiles before it could fire. Cross rolled to port and raked his cannons over a raider chasing that viper's tail.

The vipers quickly drove the orbiting raiders away and dove on the beleaguered battlestar. Its fractured hull was lit up by a series of bright flashes from the raiders pinned against it.

"The Raptors are launching" the LSO's voice crackled over the radio.

"Knights, we're on babysitting duty" he said.

**Alenko:**

The Raptor hit the lip of the starboard hangar pod and thrustered straight down. Alenko and got an awe-inspiring view of the two battlestars. The _Vindication_ was a kilometer above the _Serpentia_. Its sides were alight with the flare of cannon and the blasts of missile impacts from the orbiting basestar. Then a raider obstructed his view. The next Raptor over disintegrated, throwing its six marines into space.

The raider passed through the group, then spun around and dove on them. "Frak!" Alenko shouted. A line of tracers intercepted the raider, cutting it apart. Cross whooped as he shot past the raptor and came around.

Alenko's raptor was third inside the _Serpentia_'s port hangar pod. "Half the deck is covered in heavy raiders!" Rango said.

Alenko noted it, "then land on the other half!" A squad of Centurions guarding the heavy raiders opened fire on the incoming raptors. Their bullets deflected off the armored hulls. Velleys from several 20 millimter nose cannon silenced them. As his raptor settled down on the deck Alenko spotted one of the bulkheads being sealed shut "Get the door!" he called up front.

Vendetta swung the twenty-millimeter around, and in an impossible lucky shot she would brag about for the rest of her life drilled the thick steel hinges off the door, sending it toppling inwards. Alenko felt the raptor's magnetic skids hit the deck a second later. "Egress!" he said, and pushed his squad out the door. They weaved between the cylon craft towards the door. "Grenade in" Alenko ordered. Belsinki took aim with his bulky launcher and fired three grenades through the doorway. They waited to hear the detonations and leapt in after to find half a dozen centurions in cover in the hallway beyond. T

**Huxton:**

"_Vindication_-actual to _Serpentia_-actual, do you hear us? We are sending marines across" Huxton asked. The _Vindication_ shook and he clutched his headset to his ear.

Nessella reported "structure beams are cracking in sectors eighteen and nineteen"

He was relieved when Imlay replied "We hear you, welcome to the party." The _Vindication_'s target basestar disintegrated in an expanding chain of explosions. Huxton heard Imlay shout "brace for nuclear detonation." The _Serpentia_ slewed around with the grace of a drunk and lumbered towards the last basestar. Imlay quickly explained "our targeting systems are down, we're going to have to get in close."

Radiological alarms flared as the battlestar fired ten missiles at the basestar. It didn't break off but kept charging after them. "_Serpentia,_ break off" Marlay warned. Gunfire clattered over the line.

A handful of raiders maintaining a defensive formation around the last basestar shot down three missiles and one went wide. The last six vanished amidst the basestar's arms and detonated. DRADIS died and the lights flickered. "Frak, possible destruction of friendless!" Cage shouted.

"I'm aware!" After several seconds the radiation interference cleared. The basestar was gone; DRADIS couldn't even pick up any wreckage. The _Serpentia_ was miraculously still in one piece, but drifting aimlessly through space. "They got it, raise _Serpentia_-actual" Huxton said. The light basestar began to retreat as the _Vindication_'s turrets acquired target lock.

**Alenko:**

Onboard the _Serpentia_ the blast registered as a sudden eardrum popping _boom_ and a hand that threw everything not bolted down into the air. Alenko's vision spun and he crashed down amidst a pile of human bodies. He leapt up, searching frantically for the centurion he'd been facing. It was tangled in steel girders, its clawed hands literall ripping itself free. He shot it in the head three times.

Two marines lay groaning in the open with broken limbs. Before anyone could reach them the cylons shot them down. Alenko ducked into cover behind an overturned file cabinet. He pointed at a marine carrying a light machine gun. "Suppress those centurions." The corporal set it up overlooking the Y-junction the toasters were lodged in and held down the trigger. He didn't hit anything, but his bullets carved through the bulkheads and furniture, throwing sparks and metal dust into the air, and forcing the Centurion's heads down. Their fire slackened, and Alenko waved the marines after them.

A human with a close haircut and a neon orange jacket stepped out from behind a centurion. Alenko's aim went to him and dropped. "What the-" The human drew a pistol. Alenko was knocked off his feet by a sledgehammer. Stars flashed and the din of battle began to fade. He gasped for breath and felt his newly broken ribs shift. The pain was like adrenaline to him.

The inexplicable traitor was walking forwards firing, with a nonchalant look on his face as centurions fanned out around him. Alenko drew his sidearm and shot him in the groin. He dropped to his knees, face contorted in pain. "Hey traitor!" alenko shouted. His eyes went to him. Then Alenko put five rounds into his chest.

Belsinki grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him into cover, shouting "get me a medic!

"I'm okay!" alenko said, and felt his chest. There was a dent in his body aromor, nothing more. He stood up and grabbed his raido. "All units be advised, there are human collaborators with the cylons, use lethal force."

"I think we're clear" Nessella said. Then two more basestars and two light basestars flashed into existence. "Gods damn it!" she shouted.

The fight now became between a damaged battlestar and an inert battlestar against a full cylon squadron. "Call for the second wave" Huxton said.. The two basestars fell back to a range of a hundred kilometers and began slinging missiles while their raiders and support ships raced forward.

Marlay heard Cross shout "Good, for for everyone! over a frequency he wasn't supposed to be broadcasting on.

The missile bombardment became too great for the _Vindication_'s point defense batteries to hange.. "Armor plating is bursting over sector seventeen, explosive decompression is imminent!" Cage warned.

"Engineering has been breached," Nessella added.

Huxton remained calm. "Hold on."

With a series of flares their fleet jumped in and engaged. The missile cruiser _Artemis_ fired a full salvo of thirty Atlatl missiles at the nearest light basestar. Its raiders were caught unprepared, and every missile hit home, reducing the ship to a burning hulk. A second salvo arriving twelve seconds later finished it off.

The flak cruiser _Malleus_ came between the _Vindication_ and a raider wing and the length of its hull lit up with point defense fire, removing from existence the first few squadrons to pieces and driving the rest back. The _Ceres_ flew through he gap left by itheir withdrawal and engaged a second light basestar. For a few minutes they matched each other blow for blow, then the _Andantos_'s third salvo caught the basestar in its center axis and ended the fight..

The _Hoplon_ maneuvered straight for the third light basestar. The gunstar was a six hundred meter long ship whose sole armament were basestar-killer turrets. Those turrets eviscerated the light basestar effortlessly it turned away and aimed at the larger basestars.

Covered by the fighters issuing from her single hangar pod, the _Gehennia_ began orbiting one of the basestars.

The _Vindication_ shot the last basestar to pieces in a minute, then turned its guns on the second, but that ship was already dying, circled by the _Gehnnia _and _Hoplon_. It blew apart, and the only cylons left was the handful of fighters being picked off.

Huxton wasn't done. "All ships converge on the _Serpentia_, dispatch DC teams to the abttlestar as soon as its secure."

**Alenko:**

The fight aboard the ship ended abruptly. The marines stormed the bridge, diving for cover behind ruined stations and shot out displays, cutting down both cylons and humans. Then there were cries of "friendly, friendly fire!" Alenko looked up to see a handful of armed crewmen and marines walking through the opposite door.

He demanded "who's in command.

"I am" a bloodstained woman in her early thirties said with a distinct Aerilon twang.. "Lieutenant of the watch Mirra Gorden." The _Vindication_ marines saluted.

Alenko replied. "Sergeant-at-arms Thomas Alenko, what happened to Commander Imlay?"

Gorden pointed to a tangle of bodies around the shattered DRADIS display. One had a commander's stars on his lapels. "The cylons got to the bridge faster than we expected. I am the highest ranking command officer left," she explained.

The smoking comm station crackled. "_Vindication_-actual to _Serpentia_, what is your status.

Mirra picked it up. "The ship is secure. FTL drives will be online momentarily."

"Who's this?" Huxton asked, clearly surprised by the female voice.

"Lieutenant Mirra Gorden, the highest ranking officer left on this ship."

Huxton took a moment to respond. "Then you are hereby acting commander and have assumed all the necessary duties. We are sending you the jump coordinates of our rendezvous, we'll escort you there."

"Thank you Huxton" Mirra said. "Alright, lieutenant Markov, take the comm, Petty officer Lane, get the FTL computer, lets get out of here." The marines went to sweeping the ship for any surviving cylons. The coordinates arrived and were entered. "We are now jumping" Mirra said

**Huxton:**.

"Prep the jump drive" Huton said. The _Serpentia_ took a full minute to spool up her jump drives and execute. "Now we go."

Eight cylon basestars jumped in system, but Nessella had already turned the key. The fleet jumped out before the cylons could even acquire a target lock.

The fleet was arrayed in formation with the warships on the outside and the _Serpentia_ crawling towards it when they reappeared. "This is Commander Huxton, victory is ours. I count five basestars destroyed and one rescued battlestar. _Serpentia_, report to the mobile drydock _Largos_ for repairs. As soon as she's docked all ships execute FTL jump, we're moving out."

**Aelia:**

Aelia was curled up on the thin mattress of the bunk she and Rachel would be crammed into. They had found a place to stay amongst the crew quarters given over to the battlestar's two thousand refugees.

A deep male voice registerd in her ears. "See, the toasters aren't unbeatable, we certainly beat them." Aelia felt a stabbing pain in her temples. She curled up a little tighter and voered her head with a pillow.

She heard Rachel's soft, shellshocked reply of "but we already lost, look around, the cylons nuked everything."

Another younger, but this time male voice spoke up. "We're still alive, this war isn't over yet." Images of her family flashed through Aelia's head, and she trembled.. Still, she had to concede his point just a little.

The mood was more positive on the civilian ships, where their terrified passengers saw it as a faint hope that the fleet could fight, unlike everything they all had seen already.

**Huxton:**

The mood was less positive in a small, secluded lab in the hospital's basement, pressed up against the keel itself. There Huxton, Cage, Nessella, Alenko, and several doctors and soldiers stood in a sterile-white room, examining the four identical men lying on a lab table.

"So you're saying that cylons look like us now?" Huxton said in disbelief.

"Unfortunately, yes" Doctor Veris said. "They are genetically identical, down to the last DNA strand, and their eyes glow red under infared light" Huxton examined the bodies. One had been shot in the balls and chest, two had taken stomach and head rounds, and the fourth had a dent in his skull roughly the size and shape of an assault rifle stock. All had short brown and carefully styled hair, a neon orange jacket, and the same nonchalant look on their faces.. Huxton wanted to take a wrench off the next table and smash that look off of them, but Veris would have objected.

"Synthetic humans then" he said.

"Exactly."

"What do we tell the crew?" Nessella asked.

"We don't" Huxton answered. "That's why I need you," he pointed at the eight marines who had carted the bodies in. "You get to help hunt cylon infiltrators. Doctor, can you fin a way to differentiate cylons from humans. A 'cylon test' if you will" Huxton continued.

"I'll try" Veris said.

"What now?" Nessella asked.

"Now, I have to choose a course of action for the colonial fleet" Huxton replied.

"Colonial fleet?"

"With the colonies gone, we are the colonial fleet, and the _Vindication_ is its flagship." It gave him no pride to say those words.

…

Huxton mounted the podium at the back of the forward mess hall packed with the inhabitants of his ship and looked around. He saw the grey of the enlisted crew's uniforms, the black combat gear of the marines, and the many colors of the civilians. Their thousands of chattering voices had blended into one unintelligible murmur. Huxton knew most of the talk was to calm their nerves, he could see it in the facial expressions of those nearest him.

He turned back to his officers, who stood behind him. They saluted. Huxton returned it and took the microphone. "Attention please" he said. A pair of radios on the podium broadcast his words to every ship in the fleet. The crowd slowly quieted down. "Thank you very much, I am Commander Adriatic Huxton, for those of you who don't know."

His people nodded slowly, waiting with bated breath for his next words. "As of now, we are the entirety of humanity. Our world has been destroyed and everyone we loved is dead and not coming back, the cylons did that. While we grieve, a question looms: what can we do? We have nowhere left to run to; anywhere we hide it is guaranteed cylons will eventually find us. We have only one course of action left that will give us any chance of survival. We fight." Now you are all asking, what can we do against the innumerable might of the Cylon Empire?"

He felt the anger flare inside of him. His voice began to rise. "What can we do? We can do everything. You have lost everything, and I am asking you to give more than everything. The chrome-coated machines will not walk away with this and build their civilization on the ashes of ours. We have nothing left to lose, but everything left to gain. And so we shall fight to avenge the human race, until the entirety of the cylon civilization is nothing but ashes in the breeze, and we stand victorious atop a mountain of crushed centurions. This is our only option for survival. Vengeance. So say we all."

"So say we all" was the solemn reply. As Huxton looked out over the crowd he saw for the most part fear, though the occasional hardened soldier had set their jaw in grim determination.

"So say we all!" he said.

"So say we all." The response was louder and had a little bit of fire.

"Vengeance or death, so say we all!" Huxton shouted and punched the air.

"So say we all!" the crew roared, mimicking his gesture. It was heartening to watch. Then the cheering started from somewhere in the back. It swept through the room until everyone was screaming. Huxton smiled, satisfied he'd worked the masses into a suitable bloodlust. He wondered how many cylons were amongst them. His left hand went to his sidearm as a precaution.

The last few ships of the twelve colonies drifted through deep space. Waiting, though not for long.


	5. Episode 2: Lions and Lambs: part 1

**18****th**** day of the Second Cylon War**:

On the transport _Sygnia_, breakfast was served to the passengers in their seats. The transport had been a small FTL hopper making its runs between the three moons of the gas giant Zeus: Leonis, Scorpia, and Virgon. She had hidden in the Erebus belt when President Adar had suspended commercial travel, taking her one hundred passengers with her. Raptor 0-16 had found her and led her back to the fleet.

The passengers quickly ate the small meal of freeze dried beef and eggs, several dropping chunks onto their already soiled clothes. Abruptly an elderman vomited blood onto the floor. Several nearby people screamed and a father hid covered his daughter's eyes.

Quickly the entire row began retching up blood, then the entire section. "What do we do?" flight attendant Melanie Waters pleaded with her senior attendant. The woman opened her mouth to answer but instead dropped to her knees and hacked up her own intestines. A breakfast platter was knocked off the table by her struggles.

_A breakfast platter_. Melanie sprinted into the next section. "Stop serving food, it's poisoned!" she shrieked. Grabbing several dishes away from the passengers.

The thirty occupants of the first section were dead in minutes. The two kitchen staffers were found dead from stab wounds minutes later.

Aelia was dreaming of the warm Caprican sun and the smiling faces of her parents when she fell out of bed. She awoke as she hit the floor headfirst and bit her tongue as pain burst from the bandaged crack in her skull, which would need another month to heal entirely. A faint whimper crept out.

"You okay girl?" a woman in her early thirties playing cards with several other adults asked.

"I'm fine, thanks" Aelia lied and sat up on the cold metal floor. She was in one of the crew quarters in the underbelly of the _Vindication_, sharing a room for twenty with thirty people. The floor was covered in personal belongings and due to the lack of a rising and setting sun for guidance there was an uncomfortable lack of time where everyone slept and ate whenever they could. The actual crew was physically in just as bad shape, having given up some of their quarters for the civilians.

"Aelia, are you alright?" Rachel said as she crawled to the edge of the bunk they shared and looked down.

"I'm fine" Aelia repeated. Rachel's eyes went to the hand she had clasped over her injury.

"No your not," she said, and reached down. Aelia took her hand and together they pulled her back into bed. Rachel hugged her. "I'm sleeping on the outside for now on, that's the third time you've done that, switch," she said. They switched places.

"I hate it here" Aelia said.

"I know. Everything here is so uncomfortable" Rachel said. The bed was fairly small and since clothes hadn't been shipped over from the merchant freighter in the fleet yet they were still wearing the dress clothes they'd arrived onboard in.

"And cold."

"Cold?"

"This ship feels like a tomb. I look at everyone, the crew, and us and they all look so sad and grim. Its like we're all dead, and everyone knows it" Aelia explained. Rachel gave her another hug. "And every second I'm on here I remember that our families were on the next transport, twenty minutes away" she added.

"So do I. We have to do what the crew are saying: keep fighting" she said.

"For what?"

"Everything." Aelia decided to not ask about everything since her head was beginning to hurt again.

Before they could drift back to sleep the loudspeakers crackled. "Attention please, will all civilians fourteen and older report to the mess hall immediately" Huxton said over the loudspeakers. "Really?" Rachel asked.

They clambered out of bed with the twenty other groggy sleepers, adjusted their now bedraggled clothes, and stumbled outside. On the way through the corridors Aelia saw hundreds of other passengers and crew. All had that cold, grim look.

The mess hall had been mostly cleared of tables except for a line at the far end of the room where everyone seemed to be streaming towards. "Join an existing line, it doesn't matter which one. Once you get to the tables you will be asked your name, whether you have any family members not present, and what skills you possess" a marine by the door shouted at them. Rachel and Aelia stepped on the end of the nearest line and braced for a long wait.

It took four hours of aching legs and ears hurting from the amount of chatter going on for them to reach the front. There was a young ensign manning the table, a pile of papers and a pen his only tools. The woman from the girl's room, two spaces ahead, was drafted for having spent three years in the Scorpian defense force. The old white bearded priest directly ahead of them was put on 'hold' as a possible chaplain.

"Names" the ensign said with the inescapable boredom of someone who's said it a hundred times already, when the girls stepped up.

"Rachel Carmine" Rachel said.

"Do you have any skills in the field of combat, electronics, engineering, or domestic?" he asked.

"I don't" Rachel said.

"Didn't think so, you may return to your quarters" he said, and waved her on. Rachel stepped out of line and watched Aelia come forward. "Sisters?" the ensign asked with a bit of warmth.

"Might as well be" Aelia said.

"Okay, name.

"Aelia Wrenner."

"Do you have any-"?

"I took a year and a half of basic communications in high school, I know how to broadcast and receive on shortwave radios, tight beam comms, and basic FTL communication," Aelia said as a small grin inexorably formed on her face. The fact that she could at least be of some use was the first thing she'd had to be happy for in eighteen days.

The ensign raised his thin eyebrows and made a note. "Very good. You are to report to the comm chambers at 0800 hours tomorrow, do you know where that is?" he asked. She shook her head. She, like most of the civilians had remained huddled together in their rooms for most of the time.

The ensign produced a map of the ship. "We're in sector fifteen right now. The radio room is in sector ten" he pointed them out, and traced a route between the two locations. "Can you remember?"

"Yes, thank you" Aelia said. She waved and turned away. She followed Rachel to the exit on the left side of the mess. "Well, I guess I'm going to be part of the crew" Aelia said nervously.

"Good for you" Rachel said with a smile. They found one of the crew lounges, and after wondering whether they were allowed to for a minute ducked inside. There were a handful of enlisted men, an officer, and a pair of men in business suits inside the room, sitting on a handful of stuffed chairs around a television playing an old Libran thriller. A bar was against one wall and someone was playing Tareq's fifth orchestral suite on the stereo. The two girls sat down on a couch and pulled their legs up so they could face each other. Neither saw the officer in the chair next to them turn around and roll his eyes.

"Excuse me, you're sitting on something of mine," Cage said, pointing to Rachel. She leapt up and found a white paper under her.

"Watch where you drop silly" Aelia said. The lighthearted remark sent them both into fits of giggles. The laughter made her head feel like it was getting drilled open, but after all the misery she had endured it was such a relief she kept laughing until she was in tears.

"What is that anyway?" Rachel asked when they had calmed down to find Cage giving them an amused grin.

"Just something I was drawing" he said, and turned it over to reveal a half-complete pencil sketch of the _Vindication_. The sketch didn't include the recent battle damage. "I was an art major before ending up in boot camp."

"Wow, that's really good" Rachel said.

"I-it is" Aelia stammered out, both hands clasping her head.

"You okay there?" Cage asked.

"I'm fine, just got a knock on my head. It hurts to laugh" Aelia explained. The conversation seemed to be trailing off into awkward silence, and she didn't want that.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Major Elliot Cage" Cage said, "and yours?"

"Aelia Wrenner."

"Rachel Carmine."

"Did you just come from the draft?" Cage asked. They looked young, but you never knew.

"Yeah, I'm assigned to the communications department" Aelia said.

"I got rejected" Rachel said. "What's the point of this anyways?" she asked innocently.

"Well that would be for-" Cage's radio buzzed. "Sorry" he said sheepishly, and put it to his ear. "Cage here, go ahead," he said. After listening for a few seconds he sighed, said "understood," and hung up. "Sorry, I've got to go handle some diplomatic business, nice meeting you" he said and stood up.

"Aww, well nice meeting you too" both girls said. They waved as he left. Once he was gone Rachel turned back to Aelia and the resumed talking.

Huxton was sitting at his desk in his quarters, writing furiously on a pad when his radio buzzed. It was Merle. "I've got a shuttle from the Colonial independent transport _Athenian_ urgently requesting permission to land, they claim to have the representative of the civilian ships onboard" he said. That surprised Huxton.

"Can I get a name for this individual before I let him board my ship?" he asked irately.

"Captain Johnathan Travere" Merle supplied. Huxton grabbed his computer and searched the name in the fleet database they had been creating, based in the _Serpentia_'s larger and more intact computer core. The man was indeed the captain of the _Athenian_.

"Let him come aboard with a guard" Huxton said.

"Yes sir."

Huxton contacted Cage and explained the situation. "Meet him in the starboard hangar pod and escort him to the meeting room. I'll meet you there" he said.

"Understood" cage ended the call. Huxton stood up and looked down at his desk. It had become cluttered with papers, some his own battle and survival plans, some official documents. The most recent one was an estimate by a crippled but still intellectually capable Radin on salvaging the port hangar pod, which still contained a civilian light transport, forty vipers, and a dozen raptors, plus much needed fuel and maintenance equipment. Radin's engineers would be helpless for the next three days until The _Serpentia_ cleared out of the mobile dry dock, then it would take two weeks they could ill afford to return the pod to operation.

Huxton's thoughts trailed off. Then he remembered he had an immediate appointment. He pulled on a shirt, combed his black hair, washed his hands and walked out. The corridor between the officer barracks and the command center now had long cracks running down its dulled surface from absorbing the strain of a ten-megaton detonation. Several of the rank and file ahd started putting up pictures of their lost along its length. Huxton stopped for a moment next to a picture of Cage holding two smiling kids with the same green eyes and brown hair, then kept going. He turned left at the bridge, passed the computer core, and entered the officer meeting room. Cage, two marines, and a tall, balding man in his late forties were waiting for him inside, seated at one end of the round table meant to hold forty.

"Hello there" Huxton said. Johnathan stood up. The two men regarded each other with suspicion, looking each other over, searching for any weakness. Huxton was in full combat uniform. Johnathan wore a rough leather jacket and grey slacks.

"Hello commander" he said.

"I was unaware the civilian fleet had a leader" Huxton said.

"The various captains came together last night and elected me to represent them, it's very recent. As their leader I am representing them to the military and in charge of organization" Johnathan explained.

This set off alarm bells. "Two questions; one, under what authority do you have this position, and two; what spurred this election?" Huxton pressed in.

Johnathan's eyes flared in anger. "As the survivors of the twelve colonies we need a civilian government, we don't mean any trouble with your operations. This government was called because of your instituting a draft and sending recruiters aboard some of my ships," he explained. Huxton locked eyes with him.

"Half of the fleet is short on crew, especially the _Serpentia_, we need replacements to fight the war" Huxton explained.

"The war is over, this is about survival," Johnathan protested. Huxton shook his head derisively.

"I know differently. We are engaged in a war of survival with the cylons, didn't you hear my announcement thirteen days ago?"

"I did, and I disagree, we can't hope to win against the cylons." Huxton agreed with him in secret, but there were no other choices to be had.

"There is always a chance, keep fighting captain. I don't mean to harm the civilians, but a few must be sacrificed to protect the majority" he said solemnly. His tone seemed to diffuse the situation a bit. "Now, is there any business you are here for?" he asked.

"In addition to announcing my election, I have the supply tally you asked for. The census was finished last night, we have fifty-six thousand men, women and children from all twelve colonies with us, plus your fleet." Johnathan held out several sheets of paper Huxton was pleasantly surprised by the numbers.

"That's eighty-thousand six-hundred and ten total, more than I expected." He took the papers.

"Me and the other captains created system to keep the supply and population situation organized and under control, we would like to incorporate it with the fleet" he said. _Work with me and this will go much easier for you_.

"I'll get my people on it" Huxton said. "Is that all?"

"Actually there's one more thing. Have you heard about the poisoning on the _Sygnia_?" Johnathan asked.

"Not yet, what?" Huxton's thoughts immediately went to the cylons.

"Thirty people died over breakfast and her chefs were found murdered. I have my aides searching through the fleet for someone with the qualifications to handle it, but I thought it would be best to ask for help."

"I'll give you everything we've got" Huxton promised.

"Thank you, that's all I'm asking for" Johnathan stood up. "It was nice meeting you, that's all I have and I'd like to return to my ship."

"You too" Huxton said. After Johnathan was escorted out he turned to Cage and said: "I don't trust him."

"You think he's a cylon?" Cage asked.

"That or some power hungry nut. See if you can get someone to keep watch over him."

"What if he's just an ordinary person stepping up to the plate?" Cage asked. "The civilians do need their own government."

"A civilian government is slow to act and grossly inefficient, slow to act, and bogged down in morality. In our current situation we need a military command structure that can get things done quickly and efficiently. Two governments will only make things even slower."

"So you're saying Johnathan's an enemy?" Cage asked incredulously.

"No, I'm saying he's an obstacle, we will remove him when we get the chance. In the meantime, put our anti-cylon squad on the _Sygnia _case. Remember, whatever happens don't tell anyone about the human cylons, there will be a panic and a witch hunt if you do" Huxton said.

Cage nodded. "It will be done." He stood up. Something was nagging at him though. "Hux, just a question?" he said.

"Go ahead Cage" Huxton replied.

"Honestly, how bad do you think the cylon problem is?" Cage asked. "Nessella told me about some of your ideas" his cheeks tinged when he mentioned Nessella had been sharing stuff. "I'm worried about starting a witch hunt in here, is what I'm trying to say" Cage finished awkwardly. He waited for the angry response.

"I'm treading a fine line on that" Huxton admitted. "That's why I need more level heads like you to keep me from going over it."

"I'm just as afraid of cylon infiltration as you are" Cage admitted. "They could be anyone, and I keep thinking the crew I've known for the past five years are machines."

"I still trust you to be reasonable and strong enough to keep me or anyone else in check," Huxton said. Cage felt proud.

"Thank you Hux, I won't let you down."

"Please don't" Huxton said.

Johnathan was escorted back to his cubical shuttle, which he boarded. "How did it go?" his aide and first officer Miles Grenvil asked.

"Huxton doesn't trust me, but he still knows that this can work better than just a military dictatorship" Johnathan said confidently. They took their seats and strapped in as the shuttle's engines warmed up.

"What about the _Sygnia_ situation?" Miles asked.

"He said he'll help, and I am inclined to believe him. How's it going on your end?" the pilot in the sealed cockpit fired their thrusters, pushing the shuttle into the air.

"There's a trained detective aboard the _Alera_, he should be arriving on the _Sygnia_ in about an hour. In the meantime the ship is under lockdown."

"Good work." The ship accelerated out of the hangar pod, pushing them back against their seats. Once clear of the _Vindication_ it banked left and dove through the cloud of ships towards the trident shape of the _Athenian_.

Alenko was midway through breakfast with his squad when he looked up and saw Cage sitting across from him, no food before him. "Yes Major?" he asked.

"You have an assignment" Cage handed him a slip of paper. Alenko read it.

"We'll be ready in ten minutes," he said, pushing his plate away. "Lets go boys!" he said to his squad. They reacted with varying amount of enthusiasm and disdain, but stood up a second later.

"There will be two raptors and a couple of Veris's doctors waiting for you, good luck" Cage said. His squad didn't attract any attention as they plunged between the occupied tables back to the armory. Alenko had no plan, no idea what to do. Then again, with the possible exception of Huxton the crazy-prepared, nobody had a plan. He'd just have to make it up as he went.


	6. E2 Part 2

In the main armory in sector six Alenko found the locker with his name on it then quickly changed out of his casual uniform and into the marine corps' standard midnight black combat gear. Once finished he walked to the weapons locker and took out one of the assault rifles. His squad finished changing a few seconds after him and did the same. "You took your sweet time," he noted dryly. On a normal day that would have elicited some snickers, but the current situation and the fact that they were going fully armed into a civilian ship with possible hostiles among the population had dried up their sense of humor.

They made the jog to the starboard hangar pod-designated sector thirteen-in under four minutes, disrupting a children's ball game in sector nine and an ad hoc tour of the ship provided by several engineers in sector eleven in the process. Alenko led the way onto the hangar deck, where two raptors with their engines whining from preflight checks were waiting for them. Two doctors Alenko didn't know by name stood in front of the lead raptor. "You'd think they would at least grab body armor," Venko complained loud enough to be heard.

"Noncoms don't have access to combat gear, so we have to protect them," the older and wiser private Serrick said.

Alenko approached the first doctor, who was a head taller than him and almost unhealthily thin. "Sergeant Alenko, we're your marine guard," he shouted over the whir of the craft's engines.

"Parris" the doctor simply replied. There was no shaking of hands, no informal greeting. They were just two men part of an uncertain mission because they knew a dangerous secret.

"Anything we should know besides the basic briefing?" Alenko shouted.

"Yes; there's a police officer investigating the _Sygnia_ as we speak. We consult him and if he knows too much we threaten him." Alenko internally groaned at the thought of another variable in an already complex situation.

The doctors boarded the first raptor. Alenko assigned Serrick and Belsinki to accompany them and led the rest of his squad onto the other. "Evening gentlemen, out for a nice cruise I see" Pilot 'Arbiter' said. Apparently pilots had a darker sense of humor.

"I wish" Alenko replied. Arbiter didn't reply as he was listening to Merle giving him clearance to take off.

There was a gentle thud as the _Alera_ connected with the _Sygnia._ Detective Johm Siedner wondered how much harder the bump had registered onboard the much smaller liner. There was a second, metallic thud a moment later as the _Sygnia_'s magnetic docking clamps snapped out and anchored it to the _Alera_'s side. Johm glanced back at the crowd of people quietly watching him stand in the airlock. Because of his badge the population of the _Alera_ had been looking to him for guidance since the beginning and he'd done his best even as food supplies began to run low. He waved to them, and received several in return. There were no smiling or cheerful goodbyes, just a morbid atmosphere and an occasional nod from a blank face.

The light above the airlock switched from red to green. One of the grey uniformed crewmembers pulled a lever and the airlock door slid into the ceiling, revealing the _Sygnia_'s much smaller airlock. Two women, one an older lady wearing a captain's uniform and the other an innocent girl in the slightly provocative outfit of a luxury flight stewardess were waiting for him. Johm walked forwards. As he stepped between ships he heard a young voice cry out "good luck!" he smiled and gave a thumbs-up over his shoulder.

Once onboard the Sygnia her captain approached him and held out her hand. "I'm Captain Tylia," she said as they shook. "This is Melanie, she was the one who discovered the poisoned food."

"I didn't discover it, the people I was serving just started dying!" Melanie said. Johm picked up on the thick twang in her voice and registered it as native to Aerilon. _Farm girl who left home for the first time_ he guessed. Tylia rolled her eyes. Behind them the airlock closed and the deck thrummed as the _Sygnia_'s engines pushed it away from the _Alera_ and into tight formation alongside.

"Which wasn't your fault dear, stop blaming yourself," Tylia remarked insensitively.

"If I had discovered the poison they would still be alive right now!" Melanie continued in a quavering voice. Her hands balled into firsts. Johm quickly picked up that she was mentally imbalanced from the trauma of what she'd seen, possibly about to completely destabilize. He decided to prevent that from happening.

"No one's blaming you for anything Melanie, look at me" he said in the softest voice he could. Tylia started to say something but he waved her away and made a note to make amends for the disrespect. Melanie meanwhile began shaking from head to high-healed boots, her light blue eyes darting everywhere. "Look at me, it will be okay," he said. Here gaze finally went to his face. He smiled. "Good, thank you."

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I want to know what happened just before you served breakfast," he said. "If you want to stop, just tell me." Melanie's head jolted up and down in a nod. One of her hands went up and began to twist the end of her light brown ponytail.

"Well, I'd just woken up, I was sleeping in one of the unoccupied seats in our lounge. It was almost eight, so I went up front to serve breakfast. There were about forty trays waiting for me at the slot.

"The slot?"

"They are air pressure vents. They let the chefs to send meals to each compartment separately, so all us attendants wouldn't crowd the front." He nodded for her to continue her story. "Well, I noticed a bit of a smell in the food, but I didn't pay it that much attention, I don't know why. Then I started serving the food, and then…can I stop now?"

"You may, thank you," Johm said. She nodded. Johm turned to Tylia. "Sorry for cutting you off like that, what can you tell me about the kitchen staff?" he asked.

"We had two full time cooks, Tessa Faust and Leonard Corrlin. Both were from Aquaria."

"Give me a description of their personalities if you can please."

Tylia's eyes narrowed as she thought. "Tessa was a bit of a flirt, always coming onto the male flight attendants and passengers. She had a motherly side to her though, Melanie and some of the younger crew looked up to her." Melanie nodded vigorously. "Leo was…" she paused. "Crazy, always spouting nonsense philosophies and telling us about these dreams he had" she finished.

"Were they lovers?" Johm asked out of habit. Tylia shrugged.

"They never did anything in front of us, but I once saw them sneaking into the forward storage compartment two days ago" Melanie supplied.

"Then they were lovers until proven otherwise," Johm concluded.

"Alright then" Tylia said, unsure of what to make of that assumption.

"Melanie you can go, Captain, please take me to the crime scene" Johm said. Melanie nodded. The three of them left the airlock and entered the small engine room at the rear of the ship. Tylia led the way forwards. First they went through the small lounge reserved for the off-duty crew. There were three flight attendants present, two men and one woman huddled together against one wall, watching Johm with nervous curiosity. Melanie slipped over to one of the men, who gave her a long, comforting embrace. _Good for her_.

They passed through the rear three nearly full passenger compartments. The passengers were mostly in their seats, talking softly to each other or looking first at Johm who made an obvious detective in his brown duster and fedora, then forwards. The front compartment held thirty pale, twisted bodieslying in slowly drying red slurry of their own intestines that covered every surface. Tylia winced and turned her gaze to the ceiling. Johm was unaffected, and walked over to the nearest body and bent down to examine it.

It had once been a man in his late twenties wearing a leather jacket and jeans, 'biker wear' the boys back at the precinct called it. His skin was chalk white and his eyes were bulging out of his head. Johm's nose wrinkled, not from the smell of death, but from a faint acrylic smell coming from the plate between the man's knees. He picked it up and sniffed it. He recognized that smell… "Tylia, does the galley carry stores of the Tilagia plant?" he asked.

"I don't know, corporate HQ managed everything," Tylia said.

"Then lets go to the galley and find out" Johm stood up. Tylia led him forward. "The Galley is between here and the cockpit," she explained. "What is Tilagia?" she asked.

"It's a flower from the Scorpian rainforests. Teal colored, the size of my fist, black stem, has a unique smell and is deadly poisonous to anything that eats the raw flower," he explained. "Back in my old precinct in Caprica City the local mob got ahold of a shipment of on its way to the refining plant and decided to make the results of its usage their calling card."

"Dear gods, what happened?"

"Me and my partner killed five of the pricks and got the other fifteen locked up for life," Johm said. Tylia was horrified.

"And you think it was used here?" Johm nodded, his attention stolen by their entrance to the galley.

It was a small room mostly taken up by a large stove and a bulk storage freezer. The two cooks were leaning against the single cabinet between the two appliances, covered in their own blood. Johm examined them. Tessa was a tall woman with wavy blonde hair and an athletic body that had to have been worked on. Her throat had been cut by a steak knife. Leonard was a wild looking man who looked to be in his mid thirties. A knife grip was sticking out of the center of the red splotch on his chest.

"They murdered the chefs then poisoned the food, how come no one heard the struggle?" Johm said to himself. He noticed something odd about the woman. There was a calm look on her face, like she was at piece. Her hands were almost completely free of blood, which meant she hadn't been trying to stem the flow of blood from her severed arteries. The man had a similar look. That set off alarm bells in Johm's head. Then he had a sneaking suspicion. "Take me to forward storage please" he instructed.

Forward storage was ten meter by ten-meter space directly below the cockpit. It was empty except for a few crates. Johm slit the first one open with his pocketknife. It held spare engine parts. He moved to the second and lifted the lid. This was filled with dried food. He went to the third, to find it covered in a black blanket labeled 'Company Property: Do Not Open. He slit it open anyways. As he lifted the lid his nose wrinkled at the acrylic smell.

The crate had a mortar, a pestle, several teal flower petals, and a strange white sphere with a ring of block spots around its equator. It took five second sfor Johm to put the pieces together. "Tylia, get on the radio with whoever's in charge. This isn't the work of an infiltrator, I believe your cooks committed a suicide attack" Johm said. His eyes went to the white sphere. "Tell them there's an unknown device onboard, possibly dangerous!" he added. Tylia ran out as fast as she could.

The call went to the _Vindication_, who relayed it to the anti-cylon team just as their flight left the _Vindication_ behind. "I think you should hear this" Arbiter said, and replayed it on speaker. Alenko's grip tightened on his weapon. Arbiter hit the thrusters and accelerated, weaving through the mass of ships until he found the little liner. He made a quick call to Tylia, who directed them to a hatch on the underside of the ship they could board through one by one since there was no way to mate the raptors to the main airlock.

Alenko's stomach turned inside out and he swore he saw Arbiter smiling as he flipped the raptor over and mated it with the hatch. Venko pried it open and led the way inside. The marines ended up in a maintenance tunnel. They waited for the second raptor to offload, then marched forwards. A chorus of gasps and sharp cries of panic rang out from the passengers as they barged through each compartment.

Johm was still standing by the crate when the marines poured in. "You got here fast," he said. Alenko ignored him and peered into the crate. He saw the sphere and sent Venko to fetch the doctors from examining the bodies upstairs. Then he turned to the dark skinned, slightly overweight detective.

"Name?" he asked.

"Johm Seidner, detective registered to Caprica city Precinct eighteen" Johm said with some pride.

"Are you sure the cooks committed suicide?" Alenko asked Johm.

It took the detective a moment get over their abrupt entrance. "Both of them seemed very content with being stabbed to death, and there was no evidence of anyone else going near the corpses. Plus, an attendant saw them sneaking in here two days ago and here I have the murder weapons.

"That's barely acceptable evidence," Alenko said.

"I know, but given the lack of time and equipment for me to do a proper investigation it's the best I've got so it'll have to make do" Johm said.

"Good point." Alenko bent down to examine the device. "What the frak is that?" he wondered aloud.

"Its not a nuke" Parris said over his shoulder. He nearly jumped.

"How can you be sure?" he asked.

"Nukes have a minimum size requirement, this is too small" Parris explained. "I've never seen anything like this before though" he said. He put on a pair of gloves, then gingerly lifted the sphere up and placed it in his medical satchel.

"Is it even human?" Alenko said without thinking.

"Cylon?" Johm asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You said its not even human, there is only one other sentient race we know of," Johm said. _It would certainly explain your reaction._

_Frak_ Alenko thought. Parris maintained his composure. "I have no idea what you are talking about" he brushed him off and turned away.

"Yes you do" Johm replied. He'd had experience dealing with military personnel and their ilk getting in the way of cases.

Parris waved to the marines. "Grab the bodies and head back to the ship," he said. Johm tailed the squad as it went upstairs and watched them wrap the bodies in blankets. He continued after back through the ship and into the maintenance tunnel. He didn't say anthing until the hatch opened and Belsinki climbed up to help load the bodies.

"Coverups can do no good. I've had more than enough experience blowing them open you see," he said menacingly

"Threaten him" Parris said. Alenko unwillingly raised his rifle.

"Detective, by delaying us and not keeping your mouth shut you are threatening the security of the human race. I suggest you back off and shut up before I have to shut you up myself" he growled, priming the weapon with a distinctly audible _click_.

Johm replied by waling forwards until the three-pronged suppressor was pressed against his chest. Alenko's finger jumped to the trigger. "Go ahead and shoot me," he demanded. "The _Alera_ will soon wonder where its policeman went," he added.

"Excuses can be made."

"After fifty-two years and the human race being driven to the edge of extinction, you'd think the government would learn that hiding the truth only ends up making the problem worse" he said.

Something in Alenko flinched. His finger involuntarily dropped from the trigger back to the handgrip where it had started. "Assuming you're right, what do you think would happen if we told the entire fleet?" he asked. Suddenly Parris was glaring at him.

"I don't know, but it will be better than what will happen if you don't" Johm replied.

"Parris, allow me to suggest you radio home and request permission to take the officer with us since he knows enough to become a threat to the fleet" Alenko said.

"You'll be taking the fall for this" Parris said, but clambered into the raptor and took the radio. Alenko resolved to remind him of his own loose lips at a better time.

Huxton was leaving the bridge for a meeting with the quartermaster over dealing with the fleet's supply situation when Marlay said "message from raptor 0-18." That set off alarm bells. He grabbed the radio headset.

"Put me on their channel" he said. She did so.

"Raptor 0-18, what is going on?" he asked.

"We have the police officer here. Sergeant Alenko insists we bring him back with us because he knows too much, due to the sergeant running his mouth" Parris explained. Huxtons stifled his groan

"Then take him back then, and as soon as you do present your findings to the good doctor and the Major" he said.

"Roger" Parris said, and closed the line. Huxton turned to Nessella and Cage, who were examining something on Nessella's computer.

"Major, get down to the lab and debrief the away team when they return. There's a civilian who knows too much because sergeant Alenko ran his mouth with them. Throw him and Alenko into the brig indefinitely upon their return" he said.

Cage left them wordlessly, his mind wondering what they were coming to in arresting their own people for the coverup. Huxton turned to Nessella. "I am leaving for the meeting. You have the conn."

"Thank you" she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"One more thing." Huxton took a calming breath. Even after a year this never got any easier. "After the watch ends lets meet at the Pantheon," he said quickly.

"I'd love to, but I passed it last night. It's always with civilians, there's a line for the bar going out the door. I'll meet you in your quarters tonight. If you want to go out let's meet on the _Panem_" she suggested.

"The luxury liner? Sounds good" Huxton said. Though everyone on the bridge knew what was going on, they still made sure no one was looking before sharing a brief kiss.

Alenko felt the glares of most of his squad as the _Vindication _grew in the raptor's canopy, except Belsinki who patted him on the shoulder and whispered, "I wouldn't have shot that frak either." That didn't allay his sense of dread as to what would happen upon their return.

The moment he and Johm stepped aboard they were grabbed by marines and handcuffed. Alenko's weapons were stripped away. He held his tongue though, to maintain some dignity, even as they were dragged into the depths of the ship and thrown into tiny cells barely large enough to lie down in.

When the rest of the team pushed the two gurneys containing the corpses into the designated lab Cage was already waiting for them. "So, lets see this device first" he said. The chewing out over discipline would come later. Parris pulled the sphere out and handed it to him. Cage turned it over in his hands. He could find no gaps in its surface or rivets. The black spots appeared to be black glass, but there was no way to see through. "What is this?" he asked.

"I cannot tell you, its definitely artificial and not something we built" Parris said.

"Can you run tests on it?" Cage asked.

"I can try. This is a hospital, not a lab though, and we're doctors not scientists" Parris said. Cage remembered that one of the civilian ships was a scientific research vessel.

"Do what you can. In the meantime, lets look at these suspected cylons." He lifted the blanket over Tessa's face. When he saw her his heart leapt and he gasped in surprise. He stared at her pale complexion for a few seconds, just to make sure. "Gene Inviere" he pronounced.

"Huh?"

"Gene Inviere was the woman running the company that installed the CNP upgrades on the entire fleet. She was on this ship about five months ago for that task" Cage explained. "This is her right here." He looked at Leonard, but didn't recognize him. The pieces of the puzzle still came together. "If Gene was a cylon then that explains the cylon code in the CNP. That's how they took the fleet down."

"It makes sense."

"Gene is now a confirmed cylon. Mark her friend down as a maybe. I'll circulate their pictures through the fleet with the story that they are potentially dangerous monotheistic terrorists," Cage said.

"Gene Inviere, damn" Nessella said when she heard the news.

"I know" Cage said. "There's something else, I'm sorry, I'm sure we've all been thinking it but I have to say it" he said.

"No, go ahead."

"Any other cylons in the fleet have free reign. As long as we don't know who they are they have access to every ship every system. We're dealing with a time bomb and we have no idea how it works."

"Then lets keep searching. Hux probably has a plan, he's paranoid enough to."

"I'm sorry for asking, but is he really that paranoid?" Cage asked.

"No, its okay, he really is" Nessela said.

"Well lets hope it's a good plan."

Alenko was slumped on his tiny cot, watching the single incandescent light strip flicker. He'd screwed up, let his views on right and wrong get in the way of his orders. Now he was locked up while cylons had free reign of his fleet. He slowly turned his wrist so he could see the X that had been branded into the muscle of the back of his arm years ago. That was what he'd gotten last time he'd been in this situation. Now he might just watch the human race go extinct.

"Hey" Johm said from the next cell over. There were six cells in the block and theirs were the two in the middle. "Hey!" he repeated. Alenko looked over. He briefly imagined two red splotches in the center of his white shirt.

"What?" he asked.

"I wanted to say thank you for not shooting me" Johm said.

"It's not happening again," Alenko said.

"Huh?"

"Shut the frak up because next time I will pull that trigger." Johm shook his head.

"Why?"

"Because I was ordered to."

"You disobeyed orders this time."

"And now I'm in the brig. There aren't any orders to obey or cylons to fight in the brig, are there?"

"But you saved a life" Johm insisted.

"And now I have nothing" Alenko replied. "So shut the frak up" he spat. Johm didn't.

"Fighting and obeying, those are some noble goals, but is there anything else to your life?" he asked.

"What are you, a priest?"

"My father was one, it rubbed off on me. Tell me, what else do you do?" _A preacher's kid, great. _Alenko groaned and rolled his eyes. If it shut him up he would continue.

"I am a soldier, that is my life."

"But soldiers have families and jobs, I've known a few marines, I once had to be the guy to tell one his teenage kids had been blown away in a driveby" Johm said. Alenko gave him his full attention.

"What did he do?"

"Bawled like a baby while me and my partner Jim tried to comfort him."

"What happened to the shooter?"

"There were two and I got them personally. Caught them in an abandoned warf in New Caprica's port district. Shot them in the kneecaps, then the head."

"You didn't arrest them?"

"I didn't think they deserved ten years in jail and a plea bargain. They seemed to fear dying the most, so there you go" Johm explained. There was something strange about telling this story to a complete stranger, but something in him told him that it was the way to get him to open up in turn.

"A fitting punishment. So you believe in right and wrong more than the legal system I guess" Alenko said. _Like I did once_.

"Yes. Now, what else do you do?"

"Nothing, I don't have anything else."

"Why not? Sounds like you're missing something inside." In response Alenko pressed his arm to the bars. It too Johm a minute of squinting to spot the X, and his story about being a preacher's son was confirmed in Alenko's mind when he saw the recognition in his eyes. "That's the mark of the arch-sinner, the man doomed to hell. Why did you get that?" he asked.

"I don't like telling this story, never have, but since the world ended and you've shared your tale I guess I must. There was some fat, middle-aged priest in my home village on Sagittaron. I beat his face off with a lead pipe and rammed the sharper end through his brain case" Alenko explained.

Johm whistled. "What did he do? You don't seem like the kind of guy to kill someone for nothing."

"My eight year old sister started coming home from her tutoring sessions with him really scared with those wide eyes little kids have when they're hurt. At bedtime she told stories of him doing things to her. This was one of those little farm villages, where the church is in charge. My parents were brainwashed enough to brush it off as tall tails and scold her. I listened though. When I confronted the priest he had my parents beat me, and ordered me to drop the issue entirely. When my sister came home bruised from 'a fall'"-he held his fingers up in quotes-"That became the first order I ever disobeyed, the only one until today."

"Shit. I know how these stories go," Johm said.

Alenko nodded. "I went into her next session a few minutes after it began and saw what he was doing to her. So I killed him and tried to run away with her in my arms. They caught us within ten miles; the farms stretching out for tens of kilometers left nowhere to hide

"Where's your sister?" Johm asked.

"Someone poisoned her within the week, I think one of the priests. I escaped, and hitched a ride on a colonial military spacecraft at the nearest port. I was only sixteen but I looked eighteen, so they dropped me off at the nearest recruiting post. All my life I'd been taking orders. I still wanted to, so here I was." Alenko stood up and faced Johm.

"You don't deserve that mark," Johm said. "And you certainly don't deserve to be down here."

"I don't care, I no longer believe in Them" Alenko said. Johm didn't question that. "I have a question for you, detective" he said.

"Fire away, Mister…"

"Thomas Alenko, Sergeant first-class" Alenko said.

"Alright, can I call you Tom?"

"Go ahead, can I call you Jo?"

"Sure."

"Alright, my question is: what's you're obsession with the truth?"

"My father taught me the truth was vital, and I have seen my fair share of cover-ups. They usually involve bodies being dumped in rivers with concrete tied to their feet. Then whatever was getting covered up, like the new drug, or the corporations next project, gets out and causes bloody murder," Johm explained. He scratched his greying beard, remembering the details.

"I see. You want me to help you? I can get you a minute with someone high up" Alenko said.

"From here?" Johm asked incredulously.

"Sure." Alenko turned towards the exit. "Hey Miffy!" he shouted. The door swung open and corporal Mira Mifune stepped inside.

"What is it Sarge?" she asked.

"Can you send a memo to the commanding officer that Joe here wants to talk?" Alenko asked.

"Sure thing" she said without asking why, and walked out.

"As the mot veteran sergeant here, I get enough respect to have some leeway" Alenko explained.

"Good for you." Both men sat down in their respective cells and continued talking casually.

Parris set the sphere down on a table and left to call Veris over. The sphere began to faintly hum and its black spots glowed.

Somewhere in the fleet, another sphere glowed in reply.


	7. E2 Part 3

Part 3:

Aelia and Rachel returned to their quarters after eight hours of exploring the accessible parts of the battlestar. There was a note tacked to the door of their barracks-all the barracks actually when they looked. Aelia took the note off and read it aloud. "At the end of the day shift tomorrow, conscripts will be moved to crew quarters." Conscripts, like her. She looked at Rachel. "No" she whispered.

"Its okay girl, we're still on the same ship," Rachel said. Aelia nodded. She'd have trouble sleeping at night though, without her there.

When Huxton returned to his quarters he had a bad headache. The meeting with quartermaster Payne had revealed two things. One: the fleet would need to return to the colonies within four months to find food supplies, and two: the _Vindication_, _Serpentia_, and _Gehennia_ didn't have enough supplies to replenish the fleet entirely. Payne and him had found a temporary solution to the latter problem by prioritizing based on which ships needed certain supplies the most. The former problem would have to be faced soon.

Huxton sat down on his desk and began to reexamine his current notebook. It was one of three sitting on his desk, and the only one he hadn't filled yet. The first two were stacked out of the way, discarded due to being written before the fall. He began to sketch out a plan to mount a raid on the colonies.

Ten minutes in there was a knock on the door. "Who is it?" he asked, and placed a finger on the butt of his sidearm.

"A centurion" came the female reply. He recognized the voice immediately.

"Come in Amy" he said. The door shook.

"I can't, you locked it" Nessella said. Huxton got to his feet, crossed the room in four strides, and undid the internal lock, and two deadbolts he'd installed when he'd first taken command of the _Vindication_. The door swung outwards to reveal her leaning against one wall, arms crossed and flaming red hair still up in the bun she wore it in while on duty. "Evening Hux" she said, and grinned.

"Evening Amy" Huxton said, and held out a hand. She took it and followed him inside.

"Still making battle plans?" she asked when she saw his notebook lying open.

"Contingency plans" Huxton corrected her. "And yes, I figured its about time we let the cylons know we're here, before they find that out on their own and give us a typical nuclear-tipped cylon welcome party" he explained. Both smirked. NEssella was impressed.

"A joke! I haven't heard you make one in weeks" she remarked. Huxton nodded.

"I have had too much on my mind." Nessella walked past his bed over to the desk and fingered through the notebook. Huxton read over her shoulder, one hand wresting on her back. "Everything is there except for what to do with the humanoid cylons, I'm still formulating that one." Nessella didn't seem to be listening.

"You need to relax a little," she pronounced when she reached the front cover.

"Excuse me?" he asked in confusion. Nessella laughed.

"Relax, you know, take a breather, have a drink, some intimate time with a certain someone?" She turned around and emphasized the last statement by pressing close against him. Huxton faked a glare, then when she recoiled, surprised, gave her a long kiss on the lips. "Thanks" she said when they broke apart.

"Relaxation sounds good now that I think about" Huxton said. Nessella snickered and hugged him.

They went to the small living room and sat down around the table. Huxton chased the bottle of wine from its rack over his TV cabinet and poured two glasses. "So, how'd the meeting go?" Nessella asked, leaning back and sipping hers.

"About as well as everything else has been" Huxton said. He explained the situation. "This Johnathan Travere isn't going to be happy, and since the civillians seem to be following him like dogs they won't be happy either" he concluded.

"Well we can't do any better for the time being" Nessella said. Her hand found his slightly large one and began to knead it.

"Tell that to the people who can't get it through their heads. I'm already getting reports of unrest from the extremists, godsdamn Sagittarians, Alenko used to be the only good one" Huxton took one look at the purple liquid in his glass and threw it back in one long gulp. It only slightly improved his mood.

Nessella sighed. "These people are scared and devastated, they're not thinking too clearly. Look at anyone on this ship, civilian or crew, you'll see it" she said softly. Huxton tried it. He leaned in and looked straight into Nessella's hazel eyes. They were sunken and red-rimmed.

Nessella looked into his brown ones: They were clenched into a near-permanent glare from anger and were missing the usual sly look she knew Huxton for. She pulled back and read the look on his face. "You're not looking too good either," she said.

"No, I'm not, aren't I?" Huxton said. "Just like the ship." He suddenly felt uncomfortable having his weakness examined. He wondered if Nessella felt that.

"The ship can be repaired, physically we can only heal so far, mentally we're even worse" Nessela said. Huxton poured himself a second cup of wine.

"We'll burn that bridge when we cross it" Huxton said.

"Wait, what, burn it?" Nessella started laughing, music to Huxton's ears.

"Why yes, you burn it. Once you cross the bridge you're supposed to burn it so no one can follow you" Huxton said, completely serious.

"Well what if you want to go back?"

"Then you obviously didn't plan out well enough before you made the crossing." He couldn't hold it in anymore, they both coupled over in laughter.

"What if that someone has an aircraft?" Nessella asked.

"Well then…Frack, I don't know" Huxton said.

"Then your motto is invalid."

"That phrase was coined long before man got its rear off the ground, Colonel, if you're going that way I'll drop the _Vindication_ into atmosphere" Huxton said. They continued talking for another hour. By the time they had to say goodnight Huxton's headache had finally gone.

**19****th**** Day of the Second Cylon War**

Alenko and Johm were awoken in their cells by the clang of the door swinging open and connecting with the wall at high speeds. Alenko opened his eyes to see corporal Parr standing outside his cell, holding a tray. "Breakfast boys" he said. "Enjoy it while you can, because prisoner's food is the first thing being cut when we go on emergency rations" he said. He slid the tray through Alenko's food slit and moved on to Johm's cell.

"We won't be prisoners by that point" Alenko said and sat up. His back ached from the hard mattress.

"No, you'll be drifting in space with twelve holes switched in your chest" Parr said. He was returning now. Alenko knelt to see what was being served. He'd gotten some powdered eggs, bacon, and water. He sat back on his bed and began to eat. "Might I add that your request to see the command staff has been denied?" Parr added to Johm.

"Do you have to be such an asshole corporal?" he asked through his first mouthful.

Parr stopped in front of his cell. One foot shot out and kicked the bars with an earsplitting _clang_. "Do you have to be such an embarrassment to the corps Thomas?"

"I'm killing cylons, you're sitting here mocking a fellow marine, who's in the wrong here?" Parr burst out laughing, a deep booming cackle.

"You're waste now Alenko, damn Sagittarian zealot, should've stayed in your church and watched the skies with your priests, maybe the" he taunted.

Looking at his new friend's face, Johm saw something _snap_. Alneko's expression went from a smirk to a blank, dead-eyed stare. "Don't do it Tom, it isn't worth it," he warned. Alenko stood up slowly and moved to within an inch of the bars.

"Come on, Corporal, why don't you go back to Aerelon, I'm sure your sister is waiting for a good frakking hillbilly style," he said.

"Excuse me Tommy!" Parr shouted, going tomato red with anger. Alenko realized he could smell something on his breath: alcohol. In his current state he didn't care.

"You heard me, go frak your sister some more like you Aerlelon's seem to enjoy." Parr's muscular fist went back. "Yeah, come on, lets see what you-" Parr fired at his stomach. Alenko caught his arm by the wrist and twisted it around. Parr yelped in pain and surprise and aimed a second punch at his face, his left arm passing one bar over from his immobilized right. Alenko let go of his right arm with one hand to catch the left twisted both arms until he heard his wrist bones groan, then pulled forward. Parr's face slammed into the bar between his arms with enough force to fold the structure of his nose in and spray blood down his uniform. He let out a gurgling scream of pain.

"No Tom!" Johm shouted, horrified.

Alenko waited for a second for the pain to set in then leaned in close and lowered his voice. "Listen to me, corporal, there are two things you don't do, one is drink on duty, and the other is talk about my family and religion like that. You just did both. Now, when I get out this cell I am going to inspect you. If I find anything wrong with your appearance, conduct, or performance I will tie your hands to a cargo hauler and drag you down every corridor in this ship. Do you understand me?"

"Frack you Tommy, you're going to hell" Parr whispered through the bars. Alenko let him go. He backed away and reached for his sidearm. "I think I'll send you there myself."

The cell door burst open and Belsinki and two other marines tumbled in. Alenko raised his hands and retreated to the back of his cell, his face once more a blank stare.

"Stop it, both you" he belted, and twisted the pistol out of Parr's grip. He and another marine grabbed Parr and hauled him away while the third held the door.

"The corporal threw the first punch, and insult" Alenko said.

"Doesn't matter to the commander, you caused serious physical harm. Sorry sarge" Belsinki said. Parr's grin was wide enough to expose his white teeth.

"And the corporal is drunk on duty" Alenko added with smug satisfaction. Parr's grin inverted. Belsinki stopped to lean in and sniff. His eyes widened.

"I have no frakking clue," he said. The door slammed behind them, leaving the two prisoners alone.

"You know that was a bad course of action, no matter what he said," Johm said. Alenko sat down slowly and resumed eating, his eyes still on the door. After several seconds Johm realized his words hadn't registered. "Tom!" he shouted. Alenko's head snapped around to him.

"I've done worse," he said.

"You have, but that was the worse one you could've taken in this situation. You might have earned yourself some extra time," Johm said.

"True, a couple extra months on the end of forever" Alenko said. He finished his reakfast and dropped the tray on the floor. Johm found his apathy appalling. Hadn't he just said he wanted to be back in the war last night?

"Don't fool me, you want out so you can kill more cylons" Johm said.

"I was trying to be optimistic when I said that, you know as good as I do we are going to be sitting in these cells for as long as this ship remains in one piece for what we know" Alenko replied. Johm had no response to that, because he knew it was the truth.

Alenko's thoughts drifted away from the brig and back to Sagittarian. Had the village been vaporized outright? Probably not, there had been few nuclear strikes reported on the lightly populated planet. More likely either the radiation or the centurions had wiped it out. The stone church would be finally still, no masses every morning. The houses would be empty, the idols without anyone to pray to them.

Johm watched him get a wide grin. "At least you're happy about something," he said. He took the edge of his tray and scratched a tally mark in the wall for one full day inside.

Huxton awoke slowly and sat up in bed. For the first time in three weeks he felt relaxed. "Thank you Amy" he whispered, then clambered out of bed. He took the thirty-second shower allocated to him, and spent several minutes leaning on one of the warm grey plastic stall walls, a corner at each shoulder, enjoying the warm mist washing over him. Eventually knowledge of the impending shift forced him out and into a uniform that hadn't been washed in a week.

He returned to the bathroom and examined himself in the mirror, figuring he should look at least presentable when he gave his campaign plan. His forehead was creased with worry lines, partially covered by dangling strands of black hair that was ragged atop his head. His moustache had grown and joined with the black beard that had grown over his rounded jaw in the last twenty days. He grabbed his razor and began dry-shaving it off.

His phone rang, splitting the silence. Startled, he jumped-and cut a long slash down one cheek. "frak, frakkity frak" he whispered as he sprinted to his night table and grabbed it. "This is Huxton" he said.

"Hux, they've caught another Gene" Cage said, his voice trembling from the strain of holding back his excitement.

Huxton's heart leapt. "Which ship?" he asked.

"The _Alera_, they're transporting her to their brig under guard" Cage said. Civilian transports had one large room with a single barred door and an electric lock for their brig.

"Do they have any place more secure than that?" he asked.

"I asked. There's a spot between the FTL spool and the reactor, two by two meter metal box they call 'the safe.' Captain Ellion won't put her there, he says she'll feel the vibrations and heat from the reactors and its inhumane."

"Well press him, and send the marines over, I'll be on the bridge momentarily" Huxton said. Still cursing, he slammed the phone back down, finished shaving, and bolted out the door. He blew past half a dozen marine guards on his way down the corridor between his cabin and the bridge.

"Commander on the bridge!" Cage announced when her arrived. Then: "Hux, what happened to your face?" Huxton put his hand to where his cheek stung and it came away bloody. In his hurry he'd forgotten to bandage his wound up.

"Shaving accident," he explained. "What's the status of the operation?"

Cage lowered his voice. "Gina is in the brig with half a dozen of their larger crewers guarding her, and her quarters have been locked. The marines were in bed, so it'll be five minute before they're out and another ten to the _Alera_."

"Not soon enough, not soon enough, order the _Alera_ to approach us," Huxton said loudly.

"Doing so," Marlay said. Her hands shook as she typed out the message. First Huxton's admission of their inevitable demise, now terrorists onboard the fleet coupled with the strain of rock bottom morale had done their damage to her.

Onboard the _Alera _'Gina Inviere' sat down on the cold floor of the brig and began staring at the most attracting of the guards. He looked at her uncomfortably and stepped behind the steel partition. She smiled and moved her gaze to the next guard, a young woman. She repeated until they were all out of sight, then stood up and padded to the door on bare feet.

"Hey humans" she said and leaned on her hands on the bars.

"Humans?" one of the two women asked.

"Yes, humans. Did the soldiers tell you who I was?" she asked. Her grip tightened, the bars began to bend.

"A terrorist" she said.

"No, you know, I'm actually" she lowered her voice to a whisper: "A cylon."

"What?" Gene heaved on the bars. With a screech they came apart, ripping a doorway just wide enough for her to squeeze through. "What the frack?" the woman said and drew back in surprise. Gene followed her. Before she could react Gene's clenched fist jabbed into her windpipe. The sight of her dropping to the ground choking to death drove the other guards from stunned silence to attack. They charged in, ad-hoc weapons raised.

Twenty seconds later Gene stepped over there tangled bodies and let out a satisfied sigh. Then she took off, sprinting back to her quarters, leaping through crowds. The two guards on her cabin were just drawing their electric stun batons when she seized them by their necks and smashed their heads together with enough force to split their skulls open. They collapsed in a heap before her, heads fused in a bloody mass.

Inside her room she ferreted her orb out of its hiding spot in her dresser and clutched it in both hands. It glowed blue and white under her touch. She dropped it on her bed and sprinted out, heading fro the ship's FTL spool.

"The prisoner has broken free!" Marlay read off her console. "She ripped the bars apart and killed the guards, they can't find her" she added. She wondered what it as like on the _Alera_, with a dangerous woman loose and an unarmed crew helpless to stop her. _Panic_.

"How far out are the marines?" Huxton asked.

"ETA is eight minutes," Cage said.

"Too long, too long, I knew this would happen. Tell Ellion to lock down the ship the best he can and prepare to receive our marine party"

Onboard raptor 0-28 Belsinki looked around at the six faces crammed into the passenger compartment. They showed a mixture of nerves and eagerness. "Lock and load, hostile is free in the ship," he announced. The Raptor echoed with metallic cliks and bangs as they checked their weapons. None of them, to tell the truth, knew how they would search the crowded _Alera_.

"Commander, she broke into her quarters and left a white and black spotted sphere behind, they think she'd heading for the FTL drive" Marlay said.

"Tell them not to touch it, it could be a bomb" Huxton said. "We'll take care of it when we-" The solid green mass at the center of the DRADIS was suddenly surrounded by red contacts. The condition one alarm blared and the female voiced asked for "action station."

"Eight base stars and two dozen dozen support ships just jumped into close range," Cage said.

"Fleet is to engage escape plan" Huxton said. "Full power weapons grid."

The eight basestars hung around the fleet like moons, the smaller light basestars and pursuit ships filling out the gaps. Their hangar bays swung open and a literal cloud of raiders swarmed out and accelerated towards the fleet. The basestars chased them with a salvo of missiles.

The _Vindication_'s primary turrets elevated to meet them, firing flak rounds that detonated amidst the raider formation, fragmenting up to twenty at time. Her 400-millimeter secondary turrets spaced along her hangar pods and extremities and her 40-millimeter ant fighter guns opened up, throwing up a wall of tracers between her and the enemy.

The _Gehennia _joined in, forming her own wall around the fleet's rear. Then the two flak cruisers and other ships opened fire. The raiders dove into the firestorm with complete disregard of their own safety and were eviscerated by the hundreds. Two pursuit frigates-hundred meter long teardrop shaped craft armed with ship killer railguns-dove in with them. The _Ceres_ picked the first one apart, and the second managed two hits on the _Gehennia_ before the sheer volley of flak fire dismantled her.

Onboard the _Serpentia_ Commander Mirra could only sit, gut clenched in anxiety as she watched the fight on visual broadcast from the mobile drydock's cameras. She was compelled by duty to want her battlestar out of drydock to protect the fleet, but the thought of commanding the ship was overwhelming. Two weeks ago she'd been a lieutenant.

A missile his rocked the _Vindication_'s bridge. "The fleet's FTL drives have warmed up, they are jumping" Cage announced. Most of the green dots vanished in quick succession. The cylons could only watch as their civilian prey flashed out of existence. The lfour light basestars accelerated into the flak wall, providing literal shields for the raiders.

"Colonial fleet, withdraw" Huxton ordered. The ships vanished from existence. For ten seconds the _Vindicaton_ was alone in space. Then Huxton felt a jolt and she too was gone.

She emerged on the edge of the dispersed fleet twenty seconds later, facing outwards. The colonial fleet and civilian fleet had become disorganized, the ships spread out in a sphere roughly five hundred miles in diameter.

"The fleet is to get back in formation and proceed, get me a role call Cage" Huxton said. A list of names scrolled across Cage's screen while their ships fired their engines and clustered back together between the _Vindication_ and _Gehennia_. "We're missing the _Alera_" Cage announced.

"Did she jump?" Huxton asked.

"Sensor data indicates she did" one of the midshipmen said from his station far off to the left side. Huxton walked across the coordination table at the center of the bridge to look at Cage's screen.

"Do you think-" Cage asked. He nodded sadly. "Notify the fleet the _Alera_ did not make the jump with us. She is to be listed as MIA for one month. If we don't hear from her after that presume her destroyed."

"May I have a word in private?" Cage asked. Huxton waved him outside. "Commander, you know as good as I do the _Alera_ is gone" Cage said. "If we had told Ellion Gene was a cylon, do you think he would have thrown her in his secured spot?"

"That's probable" Huxton said. He knew where Cage was going with this. "Do I think it would have saved them to know about the cylons?..." It was hard for him to say it: "Yes."

"Then what do we do?" Cage asked.

"I am going to take a walk somewhere. You have the conn until I return" Huxton said, and left him. He walked down the long corridors past crew righting toppled crates and equipment, down eight flights of stairs.

"What's the status on the two inmates?" he asked the marine on duty when he entered the brig.

"Sergeant Alenko and Corporal Parr got into a fight" the marine said and handed him a paper. "Here's the report." Huxton read it.

"Open it up" he said. The marine crossed the room from his desk to the lever beside the vaulted steel door and pulled it.

Johm and Alenko looked up when he stepped inside. "Commander" Alenko said, and saluted.

"At ease sergeant." Huxton found a chair at the far end of the long hallway, and carried to a spot between the two cells. "The _Alera_ has been destroyed," he said flatly. Alenko didn't show any emotional reaction.

"What?" Johm demanded. "How?"

"There was a cylon onboard, the blonde woman. She broke loose and we believe tampered with the FTL drive. The ship did not jump with rest of the fleet and is presumed destroyed in transition or jumped to a location where the cylons were waiting" Huxton explained.

"Did they know it was a cylon?" Johm asked.

"No. If they did, they would have locked her-"

"In the safe" Johm finished. "You should have told them" he said in a harsh whisper. His glare pierced through Huxton.

"I _am_ telling them, I came here to secure your release" Huxton said. "Where do you want to go?"

"I had a home on the_ Alera_. Its gone now so I think I'll stay here for now," Johm said.

"Done." Huxton returned outside. "Release the civilian. Alenko's sentence is to be set at two weeks for striking another crewman. Give Parr the same sentence for being drunk on duty and attempted assault of a crewman," he instructed. She did so.

When he returned to the bridge Marlay was being overwhelmed by the sheer number of radio calls from every ship demanding to know what happened. Huxton took the radio mic from her.

Huxton looked first at her, then at the rest of his officers. He was hesitant to tell them but it had to be done. He put the radio up, but kept hsi eyes pointed at them to let them know he was still personally addressing them. "Cylons look like us now" he said. Except for Cage, the officers reacted with shock. "There are three known versions of cylon infiltrators, their pictures are being circulated as wanted terrorists. These cylons are responsible for the disappearance of the _Alera, _disabling the colonial fleet, and probably much more." The radio erupted with questions fromt eh various captains. His officers remained in stunned silence. He saw anger flicker across a few of their faces. Encouraged, he continued. "The first thing we are not going to do is panic. The known cylon models appear to possess inhuman strength, at the very least they can rip through a barred door with their bared hands, and are therefore dangerous to approach. Any sighting of them is to be reported to the colonial navy immediately, we have a rapid reaction task force standing by. Any evidence of identical humans, or a human interacting with an infiltrator are to likewise be reported at once." He listened to their reaction.

Onboard the independent freighter _Athenian_ acting civilian head of the colonial remnant Johnathan Travere glowered at his radio. His anger was directed at Huxton, but the other four occupants of the _Athenian_'s small bridge could feel it radiating off him. "You're lies cost me twenty-four hundred people" he whispered under his breath.

Marlay had to know what his plan was, given he'd already passed off victory as impossible. "Commander!" she called. Huxton turned to her. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted, lets hear it." He lowered the radio.

It sounded trite in her head, but she blurted it out. "What do we do now?"

Huxton had expected someone to ask that question and already prepared his reply. "What we have to; we fight." He raised the radio again. "We have hid from the cylons long enough. Scout ships are being sent to search colonial space and cylon space for potential targets. Its time we kicked this war into gear. Come with me, and burn the cylon empire to the ground."

The military captains as one returned: "so say we all." the civilians were ranged between fear and cries for murder. Huxton handed the radio back to Marlay. "Set up a channel for the anti-cylon task force and a channel for any further questions they have" he instructed.

Marlay' professionalism hid her fear. "I'm right on it" she said.


	8. Episode 3: Vox Populi: part 1

**Authors note: I'm changing the format a little bit from here on out, expect the episodes to be more focused and a little more tightly plotted. Also, I am going to begin posting pictures of the various ships in the fleet on my profile page.**

**20****th**** Day of the Second Cylon War**

The sun rose over Aquaria, brightening the red sky and warming the deep blue oceans that covered its surface. Its light fell on the floating corpses of sea creatures ranging from tiny baitfish to thirty-meter reptilians, drifting together in shoals miles across. Its light passed from the sea to the few small continents, where it baked the festering corpses of millions of humans, dead unmarked from radiation or lying amidst their smashed cities torn by bullets.

Off the tip of the southernmost ocean a two-man submarine broke the surface. It was a private submersible, comprised of two cigar shaped hulls with transparent tips on the front and engines at the back connected by a ovoid piece in the center. The top of the centerpiece split open and folded out, revealing a deck with sun chairs and a small bar.

Forty-year old Alexander Wynne grabbed the compacted radio antennae wrapped in its waterproof case from a storage compartment in the back of the starboard prong. He put under one gangly arm and climbed the narrow twist of stairs to the top deck. He took a moment to take in the iceberg dotted ocean and pull his thick winter coat tighter around himself, snagging his light brown goatee on the zipper in the process.

"How's it looking up there?" his pilot shouted from below.

"Looks like a fine cloudy day, Mance!" he returned. He worked quickly, for he had only an hour until the lone raider on patrol soared overhead. He unrapped the antennae and set it up on its tripod stand. With the push of a button and a flurry of motion it snapped out, sharp tip spearing ten feet into the air. Alex grabbed the receiver out of his pocket and plugged it into one of the antennae's legs. He raised the microphone to his mouth.

"This is the Aquarian survivor group, if anyone can hear us we need help now. There are six thousand of us trapped on the ocean floor in an underwater city. We have no way to escape, no way to fight back, and our reactor is running out of fuel. If you can hear us, we do not care who you are; we need help. Do not return to the source of this transmission; send a radio reply and run, for the cylons can track radio transmissions. Our antennae's will hear you and we will reply." He repeated the message twice, as much as he dared, then lowered the mic.

He packed up and headed below into the slightly warmer cabin. "Lets hoep the gods give us some luck" he said as he took his seat directly behind Mance. Mance powered the engines up and sealed the deck before replying.

"Don't see why they wouldn't, I think we've been through enough to earn a break" the muscular lifetime seaman said.

"I hope they think like you do, we could use it." Mance grabbed the steering cranks and pushed them forward and down. The tiny submarine's fins rose and she dove into the black depths, minutes before the raider arrived to investigate. At the same time tomorrow they would make the same transmission from a spot two hundred kilometers away, then again the day after, and again until someone heard them, or they died…

Two and quarter billion miles away the colonial remnant drifted through space. It was composed of a flotilla of civilian ships ranging from pleasure yachts to massive skeletal cargo haulers and tubular passenger liners protected by a screen of battle scarred military craft. Foremost among the fleet was the massive hulk of the _Vindication_, the one-winged guardian angel of what was left of the human race.

** Aelia: **At eighteen hundred hours the recruiters came to collect the new draftees from the two thousand civilians housed in the aft crew quarters.

An enlisted crewman with a clipboard under one arm opened the door to Aelia's barracks and made a call for the recruits. With butterflies in her stomach and one hand over her still aching head wound Aelia stood up. She adjust her now foul smelling and uncomfortable dress and took her place at the edge of the group of ten people. On a whim she spun around to face Rachel, sitting unsmiling on the edge of their bunk. She wanted to beg her to find a way to come, but instead a nervous joke came to mind. "Enjoy your own bunk Rach," she said.

Rachel nodded and made a fake smile. "I will, you try not to get yourself killed" she replied. Aelia did smile.

"I'll miss you, even though we're still on the same ship," she said. Rachel smiled for real and stood up. She opened her arms and Aelia ran into them.

"Last call for recruits," the crewman announced.

Aelia had dawdled enough, so she said, "I have to go," and let go of Rachel. She walked up to the crewman and gave her name: "Aelia Wrenner."

"Got you" the crewman checked her off. They stepped outside and he made his way to the head of the group. His voice rang out "please follow me" and he led them forwards. Instead of continuing on to the shower room at the end of the hallway they turned right at the first intersection twenty meters down and continued. They passed through the heart of the ship, crewmembers hurrying around them. _This will be me soon_. She felt just a little bit excited.

They reached the forward barracks and turned into them. They were just like the aft, except flags hung from the walls and each door had a number on it. At each door the crewman called out a name to be assigned there, their party dwindled until Aelia was alone. "Aelia Wrenner" he said at the last door before the shower room.

She stopped at the half-open door, and remembered to turn and say "thank you, sir." For some reason that amused him.

"Welcome recruit" he said with an odd smile and walked off, muttering, "never been called sir before, these recruits." Aelia's cheek burned and turned bright red. She darted inside the barracks.

The only crewman in the room was a wavy brown haired young woman in an undershirt and sweatshorts hunched over a desk next to the door with a book in her hands. When she looked up and smiled Aelia recognized her immediately though she couldn't place the name. Her mouth opened, but embarrassment held her words back.

Marlay saw that and spoke first. "I remember you, I-"

"Saved my life!" Aelia burst out happily. Marlay smiled and stood up, closing the old book she'd been reading with a push by her right hand. She leaned against the end of the desk. "I never got to thank you, miss, how do I address you?" she asked, then blushed again and began playing with her hands.

Marlay's heart warmed just a little bit from Aelia's presence. She recognized the look she had on her face: she was a new cadet with no clue in hell what to do. "As an officer I am referred to as Captain for normal greetings, when addressing me on a personal level you may call me Captain Marlay." Aelia nodded furiously to show that she understood. "Did someone chew you out?"

Aelia spoke quickly to get the embarrassing story over it. "Well, Captian Marlay, first me and the other recruits were wondering about it, then I called the crewman who brought me here 'sir' and I think he found it funny" Aelia's embarrassment was softened by the understanding look Marlay had. "And, I never thanked you for saving me" she added quickly. "Thank you."

"Welcome miss." Marlay said. She addressed her other concern easily "you refer to other enlisted by last name, I refer to you by rank. There's going to be a class on this, check the bulletin-" she motioned the electronic bulletin board on the wall above her, facing the twenty bunk beds. There had been one in Aelia's bunk. One of the parents had found the sketchpad option and their kids had drawn flowers and rainbows all over it.

"Okay, thank you Captain Marlay, where is my bed?" She quickly added: "sorry to keep bugging you."

"No, its okay. Your bunk is here," she pointed at an empty bed on the bottom row. To Aelia's curious staring at the empty, but used bunks she said "Most of the crew and recruits are in the mess hall for lunch. I'm an officer, I eat separately and at a different time." Aelia nodded to show she understood. She walked over to her bed and sat down. It was the same as the one she had left, except it didn't smell, but her dress would-

"Where can I grab a uniform, i-if I get one that is? I haven't changed in weeks."

"There were a bunch on the hooks-" the clothes hooks running along the rear wall were empty. "I'll get you one" she said, and left. She returned five minutes and tossed her one of their grey basic uniforms; a button down shirt and something aking to carpenter pants, and fresh undergarments. Aelia found the bathroom at the end of the hallway and quickly changed. The uniform was a bit scratchy when compared to her normal clothes and the buttons were confusing, but it was clean and that was all that mattered to her.

"Thank you," she said when she got back.

"Stand at attention recruit, inspection time" Marlay said. Worried she was serious; Aelia did her best to stand up straight. Marlay examined her.

"You missed a couple things, here" she stepped forwards and adjusted a couple buttons and properly folded the cuffs of her sleeves. She pressed a ponytail holder into Aelia's left hand, which she put on. "What are you, fourteen?" she asked.

"Fifteen" Aelia corrected her. "The recruitment officer thought I was younger, so you're doing pretty good" she said. They giggled. Aelia put a hand to the side of her head. "I'm here for-"

"Communications, I remember" Marlay said. Aelia gave her a thumb's up. Marlay sat down at her desk. Aelia found a pair of storage cabinets under her bed. She folded her dress up and placed it inside one.

"That's a nice dress, but you're going to need all your space for gear, especially since we can't-" she couldn't continue, and Aelia was relieved she didn't.

She sighed sadly and shook her head. She had made her mind up about the dress days ago. "I'm going to keep it, maybe someday we'll be through this, like the commander said. Then I'll take it out and wear it again." She stared dreamily at the cabinet. Marlay was touched by her sentimentality.

"That's a good thing to hope for, as unlikely as it is."

Aelia scooted around to face her. Marlay motioned to the chair at the next desk over. "I know it is, but until it happens or I die I'll just keep fighting" Aelia said

"So say we all" Marlay affirmed

Aelia moved to the desk next to Marlay's and sat down. She turned to face her. "What book is that?" she asked.

"Trell's fable, its some old story dealing with Kobol." Interested, Aelia leaned in.

"Really? What does it say about them?" she asked.

"Its set on Kobol, with Aurora as the POV character. She's looking for her tribe," she laughed nervously and blushed a little. "I don't think you'd find it that interesting."

"No, I do, tell me more" Aelia insisted…

**Huxton: **

Three hours later the bridge was a flurry of activity. The secondary officers seated around the outside of the circular room were processing the thousands of new recruits and assigning them to various ships in the fleet. Meanwhile Major Cage, Nessella, and helmsman Grissom were plotting out a route for the scout ships they were deploying-task force 'Eyes' as they had dubbed it. Recently arrived Marlay was in charge of handling the flood of communications from the different ships, and Huxton was dealing with the head of the civilian fleet, Johnathan Travere. The task was making his headache unbearable and his voice was trembling with barely controlled rage. "Let me assure you, we are not going to abandon you without an escort when we go on the attack" he said.

"When you went off to save the _Serpentia_ we were left vulnerable. Given that there are potentially cylon infiltrators onboard the fleet they could be waiting for another opportunity to call for their basestars" Travere replied.

"We have two battlestars and a heavy cruiser, let me assure you I'll leave one of them behind."

"Will you now? Remember what happened last time you covered something up?"

Huxton let his anger get the better of him. "I thought that was the right decision to make for the benefit of the civilian fleet. I care for the safety of the colonial remnant's civilians, regardless of the competency of the one in charge."

"Though you may be careless enough to let something happen to us. And you certainly weren't too generous when allocating supplies."

"We don't have anything else to give you, I personally went through every supply cabinet, every storage silo on every ship under my command, we have enough supplies for four months at most, perhaps you should look through your own ships a little more thoroughly" Huxton said. Nessella approached him, a paper in her hand. "Now excuse me, I have work to attend to" he slammed the phone down. "I hate that man, I hate him." He lowered his voice and whispered to Nessella "if he isn't a cylon then we'll get some dirt on him."

"Don't he does a good job with keeping the civilians organized. Tolerate him for the next seven months" she said.

"What happens then?"

"According to the constitution, elections, he could be voted out of office and we could get someone more workable" she suggested. It was a pleasant thought to look forward to. Nessella remembered why she had come forwards and held up the note. "I have an order from you to focus entirely on potential cylon targets. What happening to rescuing survivors?" She fixed him with a glare that would have cowed anyone else

Huxton grimaced. He'd spent an hour thinking over that decision, until his headache became too much to bear. He recalled the reason that had finally swayed him against it. "I remember what happened last time we went searching for survivors, we lost eight good men and four raptors for nothing. We could have a catastrophe like that on a far greater scale."

Nessella's glare became even more powerful. She knew there had to be someone who'd survived the blasts and she'd spent time reading through the database. There were dozens of stories written or relayed by survivors on every ship of having to leave people behind, sometimes-whole groups. The faststar _Apollo_ had been forced to abandon an entire mountain town on Gemmnon. "There are thousands of survivors left starving and running scared from the cylons, trapped with no hope of escape. It is our duty as officers of the twelve colonies and commanders of the last organized fleet thereof, to save them" she said fiercly.

Huxton couldn't argue when she mentioned his duty, and he knew she was right. "Adjust the orders then" he said. She returned to her desk and he returned to watching the bridge. After a few minutes Cage stood up. "Are the scout ships flight plans ready?"

Cage had the answer. "They're ready, we're sending them over." He handed a paper to Marlay, who copied it into the transmitter and began broadcasting with a typed out command. The scout ships were each going to make eight jumps through the section of the colonies they had been allocated, listening for radio transmissions and scanning for cylon installations.

Huxton remembered something: "Do they have the backup jump coordinates?" he demanded. Every outbound ship was given two sets of coordinates: the current coordinates of the fleet and the coordinates of its next rally point in case of cylon attack.

"Good, they have permission to depart and gods speed" Huxton said. He decided he wanted to watch them depart. "Put them on visual" he instructed. The screen activated and the camera pivoted in its bubble turret to point ahead at four small craft drifting in a tight group a few kilometers ahead of the battlestar.

The bridge went silent as the officers turned to watch. Huxton examined each craft in turn. Two, the tiger-class faststar _Apollo_ and the dart-shaped _Morrowind_-class light cruiser _Charon_ were searching one of the binary systems that composed the twelve colonies. The other two, the Phantom Mk-III faststar _Sentinel_ and the prospector ship _Indrick's Pride_ were scanning the second system. Huxton took special note of the _IP_. She was a privately owned prospector ship; a forty meter boxy craft whose captain had volunteered her for military service when Huxton had mentioned they were deploying scouting missions. Her powerful sensor arrays had been tuned to detect trace ions and radiation from ore-rich asteroids. With a bit of tweaking the _Vindication_'s technicians had programmed them to recognize different classes of cylon ships.

"Vindication to scout fleet, mission is a go, best of luck to all of you" Marlay radioed. The two CAP vipers nearest the scout ships broke formation and darted behind the shielding bulk of the battlestar.

One after another the scout ships disappeared in a nimbus of blue light. "Scouting party away" Nessella reported.

"I can see. I am putting all ships on condition two until they return" Huxton instructed. Condition three put the fleet at halfway alert status, with weapons armed and vipers in the tubes waiting to be scrambled. Someone could have made an argument that it was extreme given the current situation, but Huxton would have replied that he didn't like to take chances.

With the source of anticipation for the past day gone the officers turned to their duties though overall the bridge had quieted down ever so slightly. Huxton returned to his own business. His fingers flew over the keyboard, bringing up a diagnostic of the _Vindication_. Most of the ship was an ailing blue from battle damage, though sector nine and the port hangar pod were red. They would stay that way until they entered the drydock fro repairs.

Huxton had assigned chief engineer Radin to investigate the starboard hangar pod, which had been vented to space and sealed off in the opening cylon attack. Though it would be a hazardous vacuum-walk it was a necessary danger, for the _Serpentia,_ with her viper wing reduced to forty out of her original two-hundred and forty and her manufacturing plant damaged, would need every fighter that could be salvaged. _Vindication_ would be transferring her ninety remaining vipers to the _Serpentia_ when she entered dry-dock, but that was still not enough.

Huxton closed the diagnostic and allowed himself ten seconds to recline back in his chair. One hand went up to massage out the stabbing pain in his right temple. He was going to need the two weeks off, everyone was…


	9. E3 Part 2

**Radin:**

Colonel Radin examined the bulkhead sealing the port hangar pod shut. It took him a moment to find the lever that would release it. With that taken of, he craned his neck to see the thirty solemn engineers crammed into the makeshift airlock behind him. "Helmets on ladies and gentlemen" he announced, then awkwardly pulled his own on. Under the touch of his six remaining fingers which he would never regain the full dexterity of it snapped into over his suit's rigid collar and sealed with a hiss. He checked the timer counting down in the upper right corner of his transparent faceplate: he had three hours of air in his tanks. "Alright, everyone ready?" he asked into the built-in radio. He got thirty affirmatives. Satisfied, he gave engineer Kelso a thumbs-up.

Kelso pulled the lever and the door slid open. Radin felt a small tug as the air whipped out, down the debris-clogged corridor. They started walking, the only sound being the clang of their magnetic boots on the floor. Ten meters down the corridor ended in the main flight deck. The group emerged and took a moment to survey the damage

Radin was used to the deck being bustling with activity. Now it was cold and still, with toppled vipers and equipment strewn across its dimly lit floor. A colonial heavy liner occupied the last third of the hangar pod, lying on its side like a beached whale. A jagged chasm in the ceiling stretched from the front entrance of the pod back almost two hundred meters and yawned ten meters wide.

There was no time to dawdle and gasp at the carnage. Radin forced himself into action. "Tarlin, Sarrin, and Milner, get a damage report on the heavy liner. Kelso, take ten guys and see what the rest of you can salvage on the deck. The rest of you are coming with me to storage" he instructed.

A three-man advance team had restored power to one of the four viper lifts in the center of the hangar pod. Kelso operated the controls. The twenty engineers easily fit onto the hexagonal lift, which was large enough to carry four vipers. It descended in uneven stops and starts that made them look nervously at their feet.

Radin examined his group. He noticed one of the recruited civilians was holding his plasma torch the wrong way. He walked over to the man. "You've got your hand over the nozzle of that torch, here" he awkwardly adjusted his grip. "You're probably used to the civilian models. The trigger is on the other side with the military version for some reason" he explained.

"Thanks" the man rasped.

The lift came to a stop a foot above the ground and refused to budge further. They stepped off and looked around at the storage compartment. The advance team had set up spotlights, illuminating rows of mark VII vipers sitting in their storage skids. In the distance Radin could make out the much larger shapes of the Python mark IV bombers. He pointed down the hallway between the rows. "You know the drill. There's eighty birds down here, we divide up between the Vipers and Pythons and examine every one. If its combat ready put an 'x' on the nose, I don't care how."

Several people hefted their plasma torches, but someone pulled out two sticks of red paint. One was given to the Python team, one to the Vipers.

Radin ignored the vipers and walked down to the first Python. He stopped and examined it. It was three times as long as the viper, and maintained a similar shape, though its wingspan was proportionally twice as wide to accommodate the four meter-wide and five meter long missiles it carried.

Radin dropped to his hands and knees and crawled underneath to examine its small FTL drive. The concept behind the bomber had existed since the colonization two thousand years ago, with bombers being ungainly space-only bricks designed to increase a warship's missile salvo. When it had been introduced in the first cylon war the Python had been the first bomber with an FTL drive, and thus had revolutionized the concept. It became a force-projection weapon, able to extend a battlestar's striking range from mere thousands of kilometers to light years. Armed with the Atalatl anti-capitol missile, a conventional warhead that was weaker and larger, but easier and cheaper to manufacture than nuclear weapons, Pythons took the fight to the cylons.

After ascertaining the FTL drive was functioning as intended, Radin moved on to the engines.

In the years after the armistice, the 'years of careless negligence" as Huxton called them, the Python had fallen out of favor. Politics and a steadily increasing arsenal of Viper and Raptor launched nukes resulted in the Python's decline. President Adar's budget cuts had finished it off. The _Vindication_ was one of the last battlestars to carry a wing, and only because Huxton had maniacally insisted they remain despite the efforts of his superiors and the port authority where her last refit had occurred.

Radin ended his examination and crawled out. He patted the bomber on the nose. "Are you a fan of the Python?" engineer Salim asked him over his personal radio channel.

"Why yes, I've always had an affinity for being able to hit your enemy from over a light year away," Radin answered. He was about to ask her for the paint stick when he remembered his hands weren't much good for painting. He sighed, "Salim, mark this one with an 'x' please."

The gods had smiled upon them for once, as apart from a few dents every bird was fully operational. The engineers set about repairing storage skids and bringing the hauler carts online for future use.

Radin decided it was time to call Huxton. He keyed the commander's personal channel. "Commander, are you there?" he asked.

"I am here, make it fast whoever you are" Radin sighed. Huxton could be an ass, though to be fair the amount of stress on him right now gave him some justification.

"Huxton, its Radin, the port hangar pod is trashed, but two squadrons of vipers and the Python wing are functional. They're locked up in storage."

"Can you get them out and ready to fly?" Huxton asked.

_Is he insane?_ "Sir, we are in a zero atmosphere environment and only one of the lifts is functional."

"Well that's why you're down there, to get the other two working. We need those craft, especially the vipers" Huxton replied. Radin shook his head.

"Pardon the question, but what is so urgent?" he was sure he heard Huxton cursing under his breath.

"Colonel, between the two battlestars we have a hundred and thirty vipers, we need every one of those birds out and running" he replied. Radin understood now..

"We'll get on it, it might take a day or two though" he replied. He switched channels, and raised his voice

"New orders came down from command. These birds are needed up on the flight deck and ready to launch ASAP." A collective groan went up. "I don't care how exhausted we are, lets get moving."

Kelso also had bad news. "Boss, every launch tube has been knocked out of alignment, we'll need a week to repair the damage."

Radin finally had had enough and snapped back "then I suppose our pilots will have to launch directly from the flight deck!"

"Understood." Radin's frustration grew with each passing minute as he was unable to do any mechanical work, instead being forced to stand on the side and give directions, hands twitching. Eventually they restored power to the other three lifters. Then came the part of hauling the spacecraft up. One lifter worked fine, two could only carry half-weights, and the fourth failed completely when they tested it with one viper.

By the time oxygen levels hit the fifteen-minute mark where they had to return, twelve vipers were sitting on the flight deck, unfuelled and scattered haphazardly. Kelso added four more, with eight others being pushed off to one side and written off. The group returned to the airlock and pumped the air back in. Helmets were removed to wipe sweating brows and oxygen tanks were swapped out on the rack on the far side of the room.

Kelso tapped Radin on the shoulder, nearly making him drop the oxygen tank gripped precariously between his hands. "Boss, we've got company." Radin followed his gaze out the transparent plastic of the airlock to see a crowd of orange and yellow suited deck crewmen. He walked over and keyed the door. "What's going on?" he asked. They looked at him curiously.

The slightly overweight and balding deck chief, Carmilow, spoke up. "We were sent down here to load up the birds" he grunted.

"Well, you can fuel up the ones we have out currently, and well feed the rest of them to you as they come up" Radin said.

"Sounds good."

The vipers streamed up slowly, but with the deckhands covering surface duty Radin was free to have all his engineers working on hauling them up. The broken lift was discovered to have a leaking pneumatic pump and began working at full strength once repaired. The deck crews were also fuelling up the Vipers, and later Pythons, and to Radin's surprise loading them with ammunition. Gravity was shut down and magnetic landing gears activated so they could haul the Atalatl missiles to the bombers without and power loaders.

They finished the Pythons with twenty minutes to spare. Before returning to the airlock, Radin took one minute to stand at the end of the flight deck and admire his work: eighty-four spacecraft sitting in four lines stretching the available length of the hangar. "Looks good, doesn't it?" he asked no one in particular.

"Mighty fine if you ask me," Kelso said, stepping up beside him. They returned to the airlock. After stripping off his burning hot suite for the jumpsuit he wore underneath suit Radin grabbed one of the handheld radios. "Huxotn?" he asked.

"Here" Huxton said.

"We got your ships out and the deck crew's got them prepped" he said triumphantly

"Alright. Your team can take the next day's shift off" Huxton said.

"We're getting tomorrow's shift off," Radin announced. His engineers, red-skinned from exertion covered in sweat and half-out of vacuums suits, began cheering. Radin returned to Huxton, "I'm just wondering, what's happening to the Pythons? Mercury class battlestars don't have tubes for them?"

"We're going to keep half with us and send the others to the _Gehennia_, which _does_ have tubes for them." Huxton replied.

"Alright, sounds good, Radin out." Rading closed down the link. He dropped the radio and took a minute to double over and pant from exhaustion.

"Hey boss, we're heading to the Pantheon, you want to come?" Kelso asked.

Radin found the idea ridiculous enough to be worth protesting, "like this? We stink."

Kelso started laughing. "Good, we'll scare away the line."

Radin saw his logic and became enthusiastic. "That's the spirit!…"

**Aelia:**

With her knees trembling, arms crossed, and a nervous sweat already forming Aelia stepped into the communications room. She looked around at the blackened walls and the humming consoles, and the seven other recruits sitting at various terminals. Marlay and a man with his left arm in a sling were standing in the center of the room watching them. When Marlay saw her out of the corner of her eye and turned she quickly made her best attempt at a military salute.

"Recruit, the shift started forty-five seconds ago" Marlay said. She gave Aelia a small nod and what could have been a faint smile. Though she knew Marlay was only referring to her as _recruit_ because of required military etiquette, Aelia was unnerved by it.

"I'm sorrym". W-where do you want me, Captain?" she asked.

Marlay pointed to an empty chair facing a computer monitor. "This will do for now recruit, lets see what you're capable of." Aelia sat down there and began to examine the computer. It was monitoring radio frequencies, but in a format she had never seen before.

"Alright recruits, listen up" Marlay said. Maybe it was her imagination, but Aelia heard her voice quake faintly, reducing the authoritative effect the statement had. She and most of the other recruits turned to face her. "I am Captain Marlay, chief communications officer of the battlestar _Vindication_, flagship of the colonial remnant. This here is Lieutenant Traye, second communications officer-" she patted the man on the shoulder.

She continued: "You will probably get a speech on what it means to be a recruit in these dire times when you attend basic discipline training tonight, so I will skip that. You are in this room because you are skilled in radio communications, and we need as many people with your skills as we can get. With the casualties we suffered during the initial attack at Picon the Lieutenant and I will be your sole instructors and superiors."

She rapped Aelia's desk with her knuckles. The hollow crack reverberated throughout the room. "Look at you computer. Raise your hand if you have no clue what you are seeing." Aelia put her hand halfway up. When six other recruits raised theirs she put it all the way up. Marlay turned to the middle aged man with who hadn't.

"I served as the communications officer on the light cruiser _Marathon_, we used a previous version of the program" he explained. 

"Alright then, one less of you who needs basic training. Now, for those of you who don't know, we use the Hermes communication program, version three. I will explain the basics while the lieutenant, and recruit Thome will perform a demonstration-" she pointed at the man.

By the end of the eight-hour course Aelia could realy radio transmissions across frequencies and exchange jokes with the other recruits. The session relaxed until it seemed like one of her classes of school. When, ten minutes before the shift end she noticed and unfamiliar signal, zeroed in, and reported, "the transport _Cacedonia_ is requesting replenishment of its water tanks, what do I do?" Marlay patted her on the shoulder.

"We'll cover that tomorrow. Send it to the lieutenant's console and he'll get it to the right place, good work." Aelia flushed with pride.

After the shift ended she ate dinner with a mob of other recruits.

Discipline was four hours of having basic instructions drilled into her by one acting sergeant Belsinki, whose deep voice hammered her eardrums with each bellow.

She returned to her bustling barracks exhausted, and sat down at her bed, hot and tired. Noticing most of the other crewmen were in various states of undress, she stripped off her jacket and pants, hung them up, and curled up in her undershirt and underwear beneath her covers, letting the various conversations going on flow over her.

"Good evening recruit" Marlay said. Aelia tried to snap to attention. While in the bunk. Marlay's hand shot out and stopped her head just short of the unforgiving steel frame of the bunk above. "Easy Aelia, we're on informal terms now" she chided her.

"Thank you, and understood" Aelia said quickly.

"May I sit down?" Aelia scooted over to her pillow and patted the middle of the bed. Marlay sat down beside her.

"So" Aelia began, and then stopped before she made the situation too awkward.

"How was your first day, you did pretty well out there," Marlay said.

"It was tough, but I learned" Aelia replied. "You're a pretty good teacher," she added truthfully. Marlay gave her a warm smile.

"Thanks recruit, how was discipline training?" MArlay said. Aelia decided to vent:

"Oh my gods it was awful. There were eighty of us in the open gymnasium since the marshaling room was full already, and we had this acting sergeant Belsinki yelling at us for four hours. My feet hurt so much from that floor and my ears hurt from his voice, and then he singled me and a couple of the younger kids out and wondered what the hell we were doing there, in front of everyone too!" she said. Marlay was trying to show she was sympathetic, but she couldn't hold a smile back. Aelia noticed, "Its okay captain Marlay, it is pretty funny," she assured her. She sighed and slumped against the bedpost. "And I have that five times a week for the next four weeks" she said.

"I don't know the name, but I feel you" Marlay said.

"Did you have to take that class when you joined?" Aelia wondered.

Marlay recalled her year of basic training. It had only been two years since then, so it wasn't hard. "I had it for twelve weeks, two hours a day. Every morning at sunrise, regardless of the weather, five hundred of us marshaled on the parade grounds…and you know the drill," she said. "It's been two years, but I still remember out sergeant yelling at us" she said. Aelia winced in sympathy.

"Wait, you've only been here for two years, how did you make captain that fast?" she asked, amazed. Two years from basic training would have made Marlay…only twenty! Aelia realized.

Marlay shook her head. "Everyone in front of me died" she said sadly. "I was a lieutenant until Captain Sare got caught in the port landing pod when it went up" she said.

"Were you close to him?"

"He was like a father to me, this small man in his mid forties with those thick-rimmed spectacles, who coached me through being an eighteen-year old officer" she said.

"I'm sorry" Aelia whispered.

"Shit happens. Best we can do is get up and keep fighting" Marlay theorized.

"Sounds good." Marlay stayed around for a few more minutes, but both were exhausted, and she returned to her bunk. Aelia was in a shallow sleep haunted by her memories of Caprica within ten minutes.

**Alexander:**

The town of Crete was a reinforced steel dome sitting on an underwater plateu three thousand feet below the surface of the southern ocean. Inside its five square acres was scaffolding housing science labs and apartments in a three-dimensional layout. It had had a population of fifteen hundred when the colonies fell. As the handful of surface cities were nuked and the more numerous aquatic cities were sunk or punctured by conventional weapons Alexander, the Executive chief of Crete, had shut down all radio transmissions and sent out submarines to find survivors. Now Crete's submarine pens were packed with passenger and research subs and even a sleek military craft whose radar gave them contact with the outside world. Her science labs were packed with survivors and the stocks of fish in them were being devoured. The city was a last bastion of survival, but it couldn't go on forever.

The radio room of the dome city was silent, except for the faint click made each time Alexander changed radio channels. Every now and then there would be an occasional burst of static, but nothing. The static alarmed him, as it was a product of water from the humid air dipping onto the fragile radio equipment.

Alexander reached the final channel and spent several minutes listening into it. Just as he was about to close up for the night a burst of static ripped out of the headphones, too long and loud to be product of a malfunction.

Alexander grabbed the tuning knob and spun it until the static faded. He listened closely, desperately hoping someone had finally heard him.

A refreshingly human voice broke over the radio. "Aquarian survivor group, this is the colonial navy faststar _Sentinel_, we hear you and understand your situation. Our fleet can make contact with you at your convenience to plan your evacuation. You have three to respond," it said. Alexander's heart leapt. His chair toppled he sprang out of it so fast. He ran out of the radio room and into the bridge of the domed city. Half a dozen officers including Mance were hanging around the dimly lit room, talking in low voices.

"Mance, prep sub for launch, we've made contact with someone!" Alexander nearly yelled.

"We did? I'm on it" Mance sprinted out of the room.

"Who is it?" assistant XO Erica Strauss inquired anxiously.

"A colonial navy faststar, we have twelve hours to reply" Alexander said hurriedly. She lit up. He kissed her on the cheek and sprinted out.

Five thousand miles above Aquaria was a cloud of debris and corpses from the two battlestar groups that had been ambushed and destroyed there during the fall. A continuous barrage of missiles had reduced the two Valkyrie-class battlestars, heavy cruiser, and seventeen support ships to fragments, the largest of which was seven hundred meters of one of the Valkyrie's midsection, her crew still drifting at their stations.

One of the smaller pieces, a fifty meter long boomerang shaped fastar, was defiantly alive amidst the destruction.

The _Sentinel_ had heard the Aquarian's transmission while scouting an asteroid cluster twelve light hours away. It had jumped to within a million miles of Aquaria, replied, and then made a precision jump into the debris field to await the reply.

Forty minutes into its stay it received Alexander's response: "Faststar _Sentinel_, if evacuation is the only option we'll take it. We will be looking for you tomorrow at noon over the southern sea. Thank you, and gods speed."

"Acknowledged, we'll be there," the _Sentinel_ returned.

A trio of raiders watching the debris field for survivors heard the transmission and dove in after its sender. They reached the _Sentinel_ just in time to see her jump away.


	10. E3 Part 3

**21****st**** Day of the Second Cylon War**

**Huxton:**

"Commander Huxton to the bridge, commander Huxton to the bridge" the loudspeakers announced. In the flag-draped walls and elegant armchairs and single long table of the officer's mess hall, ten men and woman turned to look at Huxton. He had been eating at the head of the table, deliberately distant from his officers. Nessella had sat herself between him and them to keep him from being completely isolated.

Huxton felt his frustration build. He pushed his bowl of tasty fried noodles away from him and stood up.

"The second watch is having problems with the running lights again?" a warrant officer asked. Huxton and everyone else present snickered. The second watch had never lived that incident down.

It was too much to hope for though. "Probably a bit more serious. I'll be heading out gentlemen, it seems my job never ends." He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair.

Nessella decided it was a good opportunity to get a minute to talk alone with him. "Allow me to accompany you then." She pushed her noodles away.

As much as Huxton wanted to say 'yes,' his head was killing him and he needed a few minutes of silence. "No need, I've got this." He resolved to schedule that trip to the _Panem_. Nessella sat down. The female midshipman next to her winked humorously. Their status as together was the biggest non-secret on the ship.

"Alright then, let me know if you need me."

"I will." Huxton left, rubbing his temple as he went. _My job is being the leader of what 's left of humanity, it never will end_, he thought as he passed grim faced crewmen and civillians. He arrived on the bridge and the four officers of the second watch turned to face him. "Alright, what is going on you can't handle by yourself?"

Huxton noticed that the _Sentinel_ was on DRADIS; drifting a kilometer of the _Vindication_'s bow. "The _Sentinel _has returned, with the location of possible survivors," watch chief Captain Frankes said. Huxton's hostility dropped away to be replaced with anticipation..

"Put her on the comm," requested Huxton. Lieutenant Traye did so, and handed Huxton a microphone. "Major Anvile, this is Huxton, I hard you found some survivors in your travels, please explain."

"We made contact with a group on Aquaria, they seem to be in need of immediate assistance. I promised them we would come back" Anvile said.

"Can I hear this exchange?"

"Coming through, stand by for data transfer." An audio file passed between the two ships and theaded through the _Vindication_'s four firewalls. Huxton played it into the radio. When he was done he was more worried than hopeful.

"This could be a trap, you are not going back there."

"Are we abandoning them? We could easily investigate."

"No, we are not abandoning them without a fight." Huxton confirmed. He recalled his plans, and found one that best suited their current needs. "We'll send two raptors over the southern sea in twelve hours to search for them with a basic rescue plan."

"Yes commander, thank you" Anvile said.

Huxton didn't understand the thank you, and kept going. "In the meantime, I need you to fetch the rest of 'Eyes' and report back here ASAP, we'll use you for scouting Aquaria, understood?"

"Understood, _Sentinel _out." Major Anvile ended the call.

The Sentinel spun around on her nimble wingtip thruster pods. A brief burn from her engines sent her soaring away from the fleet. A blue halo formed around her, and she vanished with a flash of light. Huxton's gaze remained on the peaceful starscape, which hid countless dangers. Then he forced himself back to work. "Frankes, when Eyes returns, the _Sentinel_, and _Indrick's Pride_ are to jump to a million miles from Aquaria and scan for cylon warships. In the meantime, get me commander Mirra."

There was a minute-long pause as Traye radioed the _Serpentia_'s commanding officer. He nodded to Huxton and handed him the mic.

Commander Mirra was in the shower when the loudspeakers announced "commander Mirra to the bridge." She gave the ceiling a slack-jawed, aghast stare, as if trying to shame the gods for allowing this interruption of what little free time she had left.

"Frak me" she said and a spasm of her hand sent the shampoo bottle clattering to the floor with a splash. She ignored it, choosing to shut off the water an wrap a towel around herself. It took her less than sixty seconds to throw on her uniform. She jogged to the bridge and did her buttons up at the same time, her soaking auburn hair sticking uncomfortably to the back of her neck. "Commander on the bridge" she announced to the second watch when she arrived. "What is the problem?"

Her communications officer raised his eyes at her soaked appearance, and handed her a microphone. "Commander Huxton wishes to speak with you." She took it. "Commander, I'm here," she said.

Huxton noted she sounded harried. "Commander Mirra how goes it?"

Mirra's reply was a weary "very good, commander, you caught me in the shower."

"I was in the middle of a very tasty dinner when important matters dragged me to the bridge, you have my sympathies." Mirra tried to laugh, but couldn't quite get it out. Huxton pressed on. "There are possible survivors and a rescue mission may be in order. I need a full status report from you. First off, how are the recruits doing?" The_ Serpentia_ had received almost twenty-five hundred recruits drafted from half a dozen civilian passenger liners. They now made up over a third of her total complement. Mirra's stomach tinged when he mentioned rescue mission.

Mirra had been among the new trainees, righting mistakes and coaching along her officers, many of who had been promoted straight from enlisted crewmen. "They're settling in. The first day of training went rather well."

"Is there anything you still need on your end?"

She sat against the side of her desk and wracked her brain. "More vipers would be welcome, we've got three times as many pilots as birds and its going to be a week before the factory is up and running. A couple weeks of training would do some good as well."

Huxton smiled with pride. "I have forty-four birds for you as soon as you cast off."

A faint smile forced its way through Mirra's scowl. "Thank you, much appreciated." She still didn't see why he couldn't simply send a general message to the bridge.

Huxton braced himself for the hard question. "Commander, is your ship combat ready? When I said rescue mission I meant as in us pounding the cylon fleet while transports perform high atmospheric dives to grab the civilians, you know, high powered, burning through the atmosphere."

Mirra's stomach went from queasy to filled with butterflies. She suddenly had a vision of the _Serpentia_ on fire and breaking apart. "Like I said, we need to get some training in, I think we're ready." The _Serpentia_ herself was fully repaired. Her crew however was recruits and newly promoted officers. Excluding time spent in drydock, Mirra had been in active command of the battlestar for less than an hour. "What will we be facing?"

Huxton picked up the faint tremor in her voice. "We don't know yet. Eyes will give us a sitrep in a few hours. Expect at least a couple basestars. I am thinking of planning the rescue operation for three days from now."

"Alright, we'll be ready."

That wasn't convincing enough for Huxton, who decided to ask. "Are you nervous commander?"

Mirra explained the whole situation. "I was a senior lieutenant, twentieth in line for command, and now I'm in charge the second-to last battlestar, and gods know how many basestars are going to be facing it. It's a bit daunting."

Huxton had an urge to simply tell her to toughen up. _That won't do any good; try doing it Amy's way_. "I understand you, commander. You're getting a trial by fire out here, same as how I started out. Some advice, keep a level head no matter what happens and at least look like you know what your doing. It'll help with making command decisions and keeping crew morale up."

Mirra nodded slightly. She'd heard similar advice so many times before she would just brush it off now. A question popped into her head: "how did you have a trial by fire?"

Huxton grimaced at the memory. "I was the _Vinny_'s XO during Admiral Andareus' coup attempt five years ago. Early in the final battle of the war, we wound up face to face with one of the new Titan battlestars, you know how big those things are, they're almost twice her size. A structure beam punching through the ceiling killed commander Schaeff within minutes, leaving me in charge. I held that traitor battlestar off long enough for the battlestars _Valkyrie_ and _Aurora_ to come to the rescue."

_Damn_. The fact that he'd gone through his own trial by fire added weight to his bog-standard advice. "Understood commander, thank you." Mirra said. She ended the line, and then turned to the head of the watch. They were going to need some experience, she would provide. "Captain, go to condition one, we're having a full action stations drill."

"Right, over and out" Huxton said, and handed the microphone back to Traye. He was a bit worried about Mirra..

"With all due respect, commander, but is that story true?" Frankes asked. Huxton's anger flared.

"I don't lie. The after-action report is on the database, you should check it out when you get off" he said coldly.

Frankes decided he would. "Alright then."

Huxton's stomach rumbled, reminding him how empty it was. That hunger added some fire to his voice. "I am going back to dinner. Do not call me back to the bridge until either Eyes has returned or the cylons pay us a visit, understood?"

Frankes recoiled at the ferocity in his voice. "Yes sir" he said, and snapped to a salue for extra emphasis. He rolled his eyes at Huxton's back. "Asshole" he muttered.

Eight hours later, four ships jumped into orbit of Aquaria. The two scout ships emerged on opposite poles a million miles out, and began scanning.

The other two were Raptors 0-22 and 0-23, which flashed into existence ten thousand feet above the waves of the stormy southern sea and dropped.

**Rango**

Rango fired the maneuvering thrusters and slowed their descent. He turned to smirk at Vendetta. "See, I told you, nothing happened."

"This time nothing happened, next time we might jump into a mountain" she replied.

Rango pointed at the ocean now eight thousand feet below him. "That's some very mountainous water." Vendetta slapped her palm to her forehead, and an exasperated sigh escaped her lips. Confident, he continued, "Alright then, tell me if we pick up anything, friendly or foe" he said. "We're below cylon DRADIS range now, but they'll probably have scout ships searching the entire ocean for survivors."

Rango brought the Raptor down to fifteen meters above the waves, low enough for the frame to rattle around him as it was pelted with ocean spray. The second raptor came to a halt a hundred meters off his starboard flank. "Right then 0-23, we'll split up, good hunting" Vendetta said. Rango turned his bird north and 0-23 swung south.

"Good hunting" 0-23's pilot, 'Inferno,' returned. They ceased communication lest the cylons pick up their transmissions.

As they soared over the empty ocean, Rango realized how alone they were. Both raptor teams had grown up on Aquaria, the reason for them being chosen. Rango remembered that the oceans, just bounced back thanks to a conservation effort, were teaming with fish just below the surface. The sea had been so cluttered with boats it had been impossible to go a mile without catching a glimpse of one on the horizon.

"We're the only people left out here" he remarked. "Just two small raptors looking for a boat in the middle of an empty ocean." The passed over a circle of uneven metal pillars. Something about them bothered both people. Rango stopped for a moment and swung around to examine them. They formed a wide circle and were spaced ten meters apart. Each was blackened and ended in a jagged point a few meters above the waves, like whatever was above it had been torn away. Just below the surface near one edge he spotted the outline of a much larger pillar looming up from the depths. He looked into the center kilometer-wide circle, and thought he saw a hint of some kind of tangled mass of _something_. It hit him what he was looking at.

"This used to be a city," he said.

Vendetta noticed it too now. "The cylons probably took out the support pillars with conventional weapons and collapsed it into the ocean. How many people do you think are down there?"

Rango tried to do the math. It took him a moment to get over the thought of what their final hours must have been like. "A city this size, at least a hundred thousand. All of them trapped inside as the water rushed in and the bulkheads started to crumple." The cabin became solemn.

"Lets give them a minute."

He checked the clock on the dashboard; they had just three and a half hours. "Thirty seconds." They prayed for the souls of the mass grave below, and then Rango eased down on the throttle and sent the raptor flying away.

Aquaria had had over eighty such cities.

**Alexander: **

Somewhere in the southern sea, a snow-white cylinder broke through the surface, followed by the sleek body of the submarine attached to it. Its missile ports were open. A nameplate on the two-pronged bow identified it as the Aquarian national guard submarine _Charybdis_. Inside its cramped bridge six officers manned their stations as Alexander watched them, uncertain exactly what they were doing. "RADAR is activated" captain Milbus said from his seat beside them.

"What's the range on it?"

"Four-hundred kilometers, if the _Sentinel_ is in that range, we'll find her." They were just one of eight submarines assigned to search for the colonials that could save them. The other seven were civilians subs, and together they covered the entire southern sea.

No sooner had he spoken than a trio of dots appeared on the RADAR display, two in front of the sub and almost outside RADAR range, and one a hundred kilometers behind. The first two were identified as cylon raiders heading on a diagonal path away from them. The third was a lone raptor, flying low over the waves straight at them.

"Could that be it?" Milbus asked.

Alexander was disappointed. "The _Sentinel _was a faststar, I don't know what that is."

"Maybe it's part of the same group, you did say it sounded like they had other ships with them. Now, are we going to chase them down or not?" Milbus wasn't going to wait around for the thinking, his job was action.

Alexander thought for a moment. "A raptor wouldn't be operating alone, what kind of ship can launch raptors?"

Milbus was slightly miffed at having to explain things to a civilian. "Anything the size of a light cruiser and above could do it. Given the short range of a fastar's fuel supplies its likely they are with a medium cruiser at least."

The thought of a large colonial warship looking for them was hope enough for Alexander to take. "Alright then, chase them down."

Milbus growled his agreement and began barking orders. "Descend to one-hundred meters and give me a one-hundred and eighty turn, then accelerate to forty-five knots." The submarine's dive planes dipped and it dropped beneath the waves. It creaked as it swung around, then it accelerated forwards.

"We're in shortwave frequency range," Milbus announced twenty minutes later.

"I'll call them, lets hope they can still hear in those frequencies." Alexander was handed a bulky microphone.

Shortwave radios were five hundred year old communications technology that utilized shorter wavelengths than normal radio transmitters. This gave them limited range and poor transmission capabilities. Hopefully the cylons would be too advanced to hear in those frequencies. Alexander spoke: "unidentified Raptor, this is the Aquaria survivor group, can you hear us?" He waited five minutes. The submarine and the bird were practically on top of each other. "Unidentified Raptor, do you copy?" He got ready to order Milbus to surface and hope they saw them.

"Colonial survivor group, this is Raptor 0-23 call sign Rango, we copy you. Where are you?"

A collective sigh of relief escaped from the bridge crew. Alexander nodded to Milbus. "Directly beneath you, we will be surfacing momentarily!"

Five hundred meters off their starboard engine something huge and white exploded through the surface of the ocean and threw up a plume of spray. Rango swung towards it. He came to a halt directly over the _Charybdis_'s flat deck. "We see you, permission to land?"

Alexander was apprehensive. "Can you make it?" he asked.

"Of course they can!" Milbus replied.

Rango stared down at the deck, which was rolling heavily in the high seas. He did a few mental calculations. "Yes we can, I am descending. " He turned to Vendetta. "Tell me if we back over the water." He brought the Raptor down slowly, aiming to land with the cockpit facing the conning tower in the back.

Five meters from the deck a gust of wind rocked them. Vendetta called out, "Your starboard struts are over the water."

"Frack" he said, and adjusted, then dropped. He felt a thunk as he connected with the deck and the magnetic struts locked them in. A handful of pallid crewmen ran out and threw chains around the Raptor just in case. One gave him a thumb's up.

Rango popped the cockpit and they clambered out. The moment he felt the rocking deck beneath his feet and the Antarctic wind and cold spray lashing him he was back at home. One of the crewmen reached for him but he waved him off. "I grew up here, this is nothing!" he shouted over the roar of the waves. Vendetta had a similar reaction.

"Our leader is waiting for you below!" one crewman shouted. The Raptor pilots followed him into the cramped below decks. The submarine had even less room than a battlestar, on account for having to obey the laws of buoyancy. They arrived on the bridge, a five meter long rectangle with two middle aged men standing in the center, one in plainclothes and in a white shirt with a captain's golden bars. Rango and Vendetta saluted. To their surprise the civilian gave them a warm smile and extended his hand.

Introductions were exchanged and they were led back to a small command room behind the bridge. The table in the middle displayed and electronic chart of the south sea that moved with the ship. "Crete is right here" Alexander said, and pointed to a small dot eighty kilometers from their current position. "We're pretty sure we're all that's left. All the other outposts went dark during the first week and after two the refugees stopped coming in. We thought we were alone."

"You're not. We came from the colonial remnant, " Vendetta said.

Alexander was surprised. "Really. What is this remnant?"

Vendetta provided. "About a hundred civilian and military ships headed by the battlestars _Vindication _and _Serpentia_. We're from the _Vindication_."

"Are you in hiding?"

"No, we're preparing to go to war."

Alexander was dismayed. "Why? The colonies are lost and there are too many cylons to retake them from."

"We have nowhere to run and we can't hide forever. We're fighting for vengeance," Vendetta sensed he was growing worried with them. "We can make planetfall in three days time, how many people do you have and can you get them to the surface?"

Alexander didn't like their prospects of survival in a war, but they were better than if they stayed here. "There are six thousand survivors in Crete. The city can be detached from the bottom and floated to the surface on a tether in case of emergencies. From there we can get onto the roof. How will you be evacuating us?"

Huxton had outlined a basic plan back on the _Vindication_. "With civilian transports escorted by light cruisers and fighters."

"What about the cylon basestars?"

Vendetta smiled daggers. "We'll be happy to take care of them."

Twenty minutes later they parted ways. Rango lifted off the flight deck and rose forty meters into the air. The submarine disappeared into the depths. Vendetta keyed the radio. "Raptor 0-23, we have made contact with the survivors. Mission is complete, return to base."

"Acknowledged, heading home" Inferno replied, sounding a small amount disappointed. Rango keyed the FTL drive and they vanished with a hiss of vaporizing spray. The raiders arrived ten minutes later.


	11. A Moment in Time

**Author's note: Sorry for the update delay, I have been held back by pixel art and an intense game of Humans Vs. Zombies at my college. Here's a little thing I wrote in the meantime.**

**22****nd**** Day of the second Cylon War**

"Oh Caprica, my Caprica.

I remember your golden hills,

Your gleaming skyscrapers,

Your wonderful people.

I was honored…to call you home.

I'd sit upon my balcony

And watch the sun rise.

Over the silver rooftops it came

The sea became blood red, what a sight.

I should have savored you, my Caprica

Now I hug my knees to my chest,

Three thousand of us crammed aboard this derelict spacecraft.

I find the bright spot that was you,

And wonder what the cylons have done,

Your oceans are black, your skies gray, and your green has gone brown.

You are gone now, along with everyone I knew, and loved.

Smiling faces, warm hugs, children's laughter

Just a fading memory, one I won't touch without tears…

So when the recruiters come from the battlestar

I raise my hand and sign on.

With unfamiliar hands, I will load my new rifle and put on my body armor

And throw myself at the cylons.

All in your memory, my dear Caprica.

Into the fires of war we shall plunge,

Eighty thousand humans luckier than the rest we are.

Cylons shall shatter and baseships shall burn.

The skin jobs screams will fuel our rage.

We shall never stop fighting, never lie down and surrender.

This is no longer about freedom, no longer about victory

This is about how much pain we can cause

How many tears we can make flow, how many mutilated wretches we can create.

Every night I hug my knees to my chest, my heart trembling with each beat.

And find you in the sky, the graveyard of my life.

I fight to avenge you and all you hold.

That's all me or anyone else has left.

I love you my family and my dear Caprica, I will see you on the other side."

**Poem appeared taped up in the general crewman's mess. **


	12. E3 part 4

**Cross:**

Captain Jamie 'Cross' Erics sat in the cockpit of his Mark VII viper as it dove past the edge of the fleet at the center of a V-formation of five fighters. There were almost fifty more vipers zipping around the fleet in his first training exercise since the fall. Forty were the nuggets the recruiting office had sent them, the other ten his pilots trying to temper them into a fighting force.

With a downward glance to his DRADIS, Cross saw three more fighters break from between a civilian freighter and the missile cruiser _Artemis _and dive after them. "Raiders on our tail, 180 swing, now!" he ordered over the squadron frequency, and fired his rear thrusters. His viper pivoted about to face behind him. The three vipers were spread out to catch his group in a barrage from three directions. Cross aimed at the nearest viper and pulled his trigger. The _Vindication_'s computer core recorded a burst of tracers and a direct hit to the fighter's cockpit. It veered away.

Three of his nuggets made the turn, but only one on his starboard side held formation., and they only managed a glancing hit on another viper The fourth shot away mid spin and spiraled out of control towards a mining ship. Cross's heart leapt. "Damnit 'Siren,' fire your braking thrusters!" He weaved out of his group and went after the errant viper like a mother hen.

"Trying, trying!" 'Siren' replied. The viper trembled, and then came to a halt less than a hundred meters above the mining ship's brown hull. "Holy frack!" the scared pilot shouted. Cross pulled up beside him, and fear became rage.

He had to know what happened before he tore this nugget a new one. "Siren, what did you do?"

The reply was innocent enough: "I fired my rear thrusters."

Cross had been in Vipers for forty-five years. He knew every possible maneuver the bird could make and could do the calculations to back it up."You would not have spun like that, what else did you do?"

"I wanted to turn faster, so I added my starboard wingtip thrusters." The innocence of his delivery, coupled with the amount of lives that could have been lost added to Cross' already building anger. The rest of his vipers had gathered around him, facing outwards, but the remaining undamaged viper was content to drift just beyond effective gun range.

Cross knew many of the nuggets had been pilots, and were having trouble getting used to the vipers. "What did you fly before coming here?"

"I flew one of the old Z-80 slammers, for Remus' raiders" Siren replied. Cross remembered Remus' raiders; one of several pirate groups lying in wait in the systems around the colonies. He'd shot down several Z-80's during his time deployed escorting mining convoys.

He recalled the fighter: "The Z-80 was a damn bit more maneuverable than a viper, but less stable. Remember, you're not going to turn as fast, but you are less likely to overturn and you have more accuracy when shooting. Why the hell did you add your wingtip thrusters though?"

"I though I would turn faster."

Cross slapped a palm to the brow of his helmet. "You idiot. Siren, don't you know basic physics?"

The reply was a confused "Yes I do, why?" Siren narrowed his eyes at him in his canopy.

"Because then you would know that every action has an equal and opposite reaction, right?"

"Umm right? " Cross exaggerated his eye-roll enough for the nugget to see it.

"Then what happens when you want to spin around to point behind you, and you fire maneuvering thrusters pointing in an entirely different direction?"

There was a momentary pause as the thought crossed the nugget's brain. "Oh."

Cross decided he'd gotten the appropriate response. "Yes, oh, and two hundred lives onboard that mining ship. Now, can you turn away from the fleet at vector two-eight-Delta, and accelerate at twelve g? Please only use your wingtips and main engines"

Siren' sounded very cowed next. "Yes captain, yes I can.: He unsteadily eased away from the slowly retreating mining ship until his nose pointed into deep space, and his engines fired. Cross accelerated after him. He eased up until they were wingtip to wingtip. The rest of his wing followed shortly behind. Cross called off the stalking 'raider' and addressed them all.

"Now then nuggets, since unfortunately we need to do this; time for combat maneuvering for dummies!"

He went through the basics: how to maneuver in formation, how to pull a turn at high speed, how to pull the same turn while keeping a bead on the target, how to double team a raider, and finally, once again, how to spin around and shoot a raider off their tail.

Merle chose to interrupt him. "CAG to Cross, the commander wants to speak with you."

Cross knew which commander Merle was talking about, but he decided to play a little. "Which one? We've got three of em'."

"Me" Huxton broke in.

Of course. "Good day commander, what can I do for you?"

"First you can tell me, how training goes"

Cage glanced around first at his four vipers orbiting the _Artemis_ in standard escort formation, then at the other vipers crisscrossing space around him. "Fairly well, despite some idiocy, No one has died or forced me to kill them yet. What is the next thing?"

"Do you know the Python bombers? We stopped keeping dedicated pilots for them, but they are functional and I need to know who can fly them."

Cross sighed and glanced down at his flight suite. He had two pins: the standard wings of the viper pilot, and the broader, wider wings of a bomber pilot. "Well I can anyways, so can, lets see" he went through the list of pilots. "I think there's about forty guys who can. How urgently do you need us?"

"Three days time. I suggest you gather up anyone who can fly them and get back to the barn right now, they're waiting in the port hangar pod for you."

Cross groaned. He still had another hour before he reached bingo fuel, and he had intended to put that hour to good use on the nuggets. "Fine, give us ten minutes." He switched channels to the general radio channel, which included the frequency for the pilot waiting room back on the _Vindication_ where the rest of his pilots were lounging. "Attention pilots. Slammer is to take command of the training exercise. The following pilots will meet me outside the portside flight pod…"

**Johnathan:**

Acting President Johnathan Travere pulled the botanical ship _Cygnus_' latest report on the food situation out of his messenger bag and placed it on the table before him. He sat in what had once been a buisnessman's meeting room onboard the _Athenian_. Now the small room with its oval shaped table for sixteen, projector, and coffee machine had been converted into his office and the gathering place for the 'quorum of ship captains' as it was being called. At the table around Travere sat the captains of the fifteen largest ships in the fleet. A better system of representation was in the planning stages, but this ad hoc system was all they had at the moment.

What Johnathan saw on the paper added yet another trouble to his growing list. "It will take three weeks to convert domes one through nine to grow food and require shipments of seeds. That is understandable and I'll put out a PSA on saving vegetable seeds. Now, why won't you convert domes ten to fifteen for food?"

The small, bespectacled captain of the _Cygnus_ gave him a nervous stare as he explained "we are currently carrying several dozen endangered species of plants. Given the recent destruction of the colonies they might be the last of their kind, saving them is important." Travere sighed. The plants were another reminder of something they had lost, and he had taken a walk through domes eleven and twelve during a morale barbecue on the twelfth day of the war.

"Captain Morrolay. Any other time, any other day, under any other circumstances I would agree with you. If food weren't an emergency I would tell you to do everything you can for them. However, there are possibly eighty thousand people who are going to be starving very shortly and we need every inch of space we can find to grow food. So if you can't find an alternate means of saving the plants they are going to have to go."

"I can't do that." Morrolay was a botanist through and through; the plants were probably the only things he had left.

"Well you are going to have to, I'm sorry." Several other captains nodded with varying degrees of certainty. Most by the looks on their faces shared Johnathan's sentimentality at least..

"I am sorry, Mr. President, but the plants can stay, aren't there other places to grow gardens? Aren't there-"

Johnathan slammed a fist into the table, startling him into silence. "They are already being utilized. Normally I would be happy to debate this with you for several hours, but given the sheer amount of problems on hand, I am going to have to tell you to get rid of them, or consequences will be of the incendiary nature." It hurt him to say that, but he had to.

"Okay, I'll do it" Morrolay conceded sadly.

Johnathan tried to be sympathetic. "Thank you captain, and I'm sorry. If you can save a couple yourself, go ahead. Now, what is the next report?"

The intercom buzzed. "Mr. President, the _Vindication_ is requesting permission to speak to you."

Johnathan groaned at the decidedly unneeded interruption. "Put them on."

There was a radio speaker at the center of the table between three cups of coffee. It buzzed. "Captain Travere, this is _Vindication_-actual, your presence is requested aboard in one hour" Marlay said.

They couldn't be serious. "_Vindication_-actual, this it President Travere, what do you want? We are in the middle of a meeting between the quorum of ship's captains." Johnathan let the exasperation show very clearly through his voice.

"There is going to be a rescue mission, for six thousand civilians trapped on the surface of Aquaria. Due to the affect this has on both branches of the remnant, and the fact that civilian assets are required, it would be best if you came."

Johnathan Travere's jaw dropped, followed by that of every captain present. "I will be over as soon as possible _Vindication."_

"Good, _Vindication_-actual out." The radio went silent. Johnathan sighed and ran his hands through his messy black hair. The radio operator has sounded cheery, but her words conveyed hostility.

"I will go in thirty minutes, lets try to get some business done by then at least," he said.

Thirty-five minutes later he boarded the shuttle in the _Athenian_'s small belly hangar bay and strapped in. The white hull of the transport fell away as it uncoupled and fired its thrusters. Johnathan strained in his harness to look out the cockpit canopy as the shuttle pointed its nose towards the battlestar at the head of the fleet and accelerated forwards. It passed through his ships, its transponder labeled as colonial presidential shuttle clearing the smaller ships out of its way.

Ten minutes after the boarding ramp had lowered Travere was being led through the ship by a pair of marines, crewmen and civilians pushing past him on all sides.

**Huxton:**

Huxton sat at the head of the table in the empty officer's conference room, three copies of his rescue plan typed up on more formal stiff paper than his notebook and spread out before him on the black metal table. The conference room was fairly large, but its ceiling was just above head height and most of its area was taken up by a long table and forty chairs. Huxton was sitting at the head, the unusable V-band interface giving off its irritating humming just a few feet away. He glanced at the digital clock on the computer built into his section of table; the others should be arriving shortly.

Nessella entered first. She smiled, and leaned over. Their lips met briefly, and she sat down at his right hand. Merle arrived next, saluted, and sat down at Huxton's left. Huxton had long ago learned to judge the CAG's mood by how his fingers drummed whatever surface his hands were resting on, and right now his fingers were pounding the table. He decided to inquire; "what's got you up, Merle?"

Merle's hand stopped tapping. "I was just reviewing our fuel stores, we're running at forty-five percent gas right now. This mission is going to severely reduce that total."

"Time for a foraging mission then, we'll work on it after we get those civilians out."

"Our best bet is to find a wrecked battlestar or carrier."

The door swung open again, and tall, bald and weathered commander Revin stepped inside. He saluted and said "commander." Huxton and Nessella stood up and returned the salute. Revin sat down next to Merle, adjusting the tan duster he wore instead of a black officer's jacket. A choice that had either scared the cylons stiff during the first war, or ensured he'd never rise above commanding a heavy cruiser, depending on who you spoke to. "A bit big for us" he noted dryly.

Huxton smiled. "We have to make room for the reporters, remember?"

Revin smiled back. He knew this joke. "I thought they went in the airlock? At least, that's where I would always put them."

Nessella smacked the table with an open palm, dragging their attention to her. "Commanders, I am ashamed of you!" They froze, and stared at her incredulously. "We can't afford to waste perfectly good meat like that, there's a food shortage coming!" There was a moment of silence as her joke sunk in. Then Revin, Huxton, and Merle burst out laughing.

Merle was the first to get his laughter under control. "Black humor is black, as my nephew once said."

Nessella wasn't finished yet. "Seriously though, the cameras would be good for a propaganda film or two, something to remind our people that we're still here." Huxton liked the idea. There had been a dedicated camera crew or two onboard the _Vindication_ to report on fleet week activities.

The door opened again, and the last two members of their little committee arrived: Commander Mirra conversing with Johnathan. Mirra sat down next to Revin, while Johnathan squeezed in next to Nessella. Huxton and Mirra exchanged salutes, and then Huxton locked eyes with him, and tightened his eyes into a glare. Johnathan returned it, and the rest of the room recoiled.

"Commander" he finally said after several seconds.

"Mr. President" Huxton retorted derisively. They broke eye contact at the same time. Johnathan's gaze zeroed in on the papers. Huxton's wandered to the far wall.

"Well, hello commanders, how is everyone?" Mirra transparently broke the silence.

Nessella, though miffed about being overlooked, replied, "Surprisingly well actually, how are you? I heard the _Serpentia_ was ready for launch."

"Oh, she is actually, we'll be undocking at oh nine-twenty tomorrow."

Huxton was relieved at the first good news militarily he'd heard in a long time. "Good." He decided that now would finally be a good time to being the briefing. He slid his plan forward and nodded to Nessella, who began speaking.

"For those of you who don't know, yesterday the faststar _Sentinel_ picked up a transmission from a group of six-thousand survivors hiding beneath the oceans of Aquaria. They are protected by a lone colonial navy _shark-_class submarine and packed into a submersible laboratory meant to hold fifteen-hundred. We are going to rescue them in sixty-eight hours, oh-eight hundred local, any later and there's a good chance either their reactor will die or the cylons will catch them. That is the plan before you, codename Operation: First Light." The two officers and civilian gabbed their own copies and began reading them.

Nessella continued while they read. "The key to successful recovery of the survivors is to make sure the cylons in orbit cannot call for reinforcements. Task force 'Eyes'-that's our scout group to you Mr. President-detected at least thirty basestars in colonial space, along with over one hundred support ships. There are four basestars and fifteen lighter warships in orbit of Aquaria itself plus half a dozen supply ships. We have to shut down all their communication's equipment if we don't want to be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. We have two space park E-War boats, and judging by what we've seen of the cylon's electronic capabilities each is able to cancel out one basestar. The battlestars and escorts can handle the smaller cylon warships. The trick is to kill the other two basestars. "That is what part one of First Light is about." She pointed to Merle, who began speaking, gesturing wildly with his hands for emphasis.

"We are going to be using Python bombers" Revin broke in.

"Exactly. Now, here is a map of what the area around Aquaria looks like" from her pocket she drew and unfolded a map Huxton had printed out in lieu of the V-Band display. IT showed Aquaria at a height of eighty thousand miles. They collectively examined it. Two of the basestars were hovering almost directly over the southern sea, and one was in stationary orbit at each magnetic pole.

"The bombers will hit the basestars at the poles, then the fleet will jump in and deal with the remainder. For the mission and future reference, the fleet has been divided into three groups. BSG-1 is centered on the _Vindication_, BSG-2 is the_ Serpentia _and her support ships, and BSG-3 is the _Gehennia_ and support_,_ which will remain behind to guard the civilians. Support ship assignments are here" Nessella handed a slip of paper to Revin and Mirra.

Revin smirked. "_Battlestar _group, nice."

Johnathan looked around at them. There had been no mention of his duties. He felt out of place and uncomfortable. "What am I here for anyways?"

Huxton pointed to him. "We need transports to evacuate the Aquarians. There isn't enough room aboard the warships. Find me enough transports to carry six thousand people, and evacuate them except for their command crews."

Johnathan leapt up, his hands raised in protest. "Woah, woah, woah, we're talking about shifting several thousand people around, taking them away from whatever homes they have, that's a logistical nightmare."

Huxton raised a hand before Nessella could speak, and took a deep breath. _Time to try the nice-guy method_. He managed to reduce his glare to a blank stare. His speech came slow and stuttered, as he had to force it out. "I am asking…you to do this, because there are six thousand people hiding under that ocean waiting for the cylons to find them. We're not going into battle just for the sake of killing cylons, we're doing it to get them out. We're going to need your help to do that though, do you hear me?"

The anger in Johnathan's voice was gone when he spoke next. He actually seemed surprised. "I'll see what I can do. There are enough half-empty ships that I think we can accommodate."

"Good. Report back to me in two days. That's the basics, are there any other questions?" The officers cast wary looks around, and then shook their heads. "Good, dismissed." Huxton pointed at Mirra. "The _Serpentia _will be launching within the hour, correct?"

Mirra nodded. "She will be."

"Well then I suggest you run."

The officers returned to their respective ships and began combat preparations.

**Cross:**

Cross hopped into the cockpit of the first Python in line. The forty bombers were lined up down the middle of the flight deck. A handful of mechanics in vacuum suits were tending to them.

Cross's copilot, an electronics officer by the name of Harew, squeezed into the back seat inside of the hull of the ship itself. "I remember why I hated these things" he joked.

Cross had more choice words; "they are big, slow, and don't have any guns." He sealed the cockpit. "Alright, beginning preflight test one, is engineering crew ready?"

"This is engineering crew, we are ready. Be advised Cross, we are down to an hour of air out here." The Python itself had only been given two hours of air.

"Understood." Cross flexed his fingers as he stared down at the controls he only hazily remembered how to operate. "Harew, give me full engine power, lets begin the maneuvering thruster test."

The bird began to hum. Cross grabbed the throttle and fired the engines. She rose off the deck and hovered three meters in the air. The diagnostics were green. He sent her back five meters, over the second bomber in line. Then he sent her forwards five. The bird was as slow as he remembered. "Looks good so far, lets try sideways." He jerked the throttle to starboard. The Python lumbered over-and didn't stop when he yanked it back. The starboard wingtip crumpled against the wall.

"Oh frack, collision!" Harew shouted.

That did not help Cross concentrate as he gently brought the bird back down. "Thank you for stating the obvious, it was really important." Harew did not respond.

Cross felt the thump of landing strut meeting deck, then relaxed. "Alright, deck crew, what was that? My diagnostics are blank."

An orange uniformed crewman leapt onto the nose of the bird. "Hang on one minute, Cross, we'll check it out." Cross looked over at his starboard wing, which had been folded in almost a meter, its metal skin had compacted and torn, reveal tangled circuitry underneath. He sighed and patted dashboard.

"Attention all pilots and crew, _Vinny_ command wants you to look out the fore exit right now" deck chief Carmilow's voice filtered over the radio. Cross did so. The _Vinny_ was turning, giving him a changing view of the fleet. She stopped with her nose pointed directly at the _Largos_ just a few kilometers away. The bow of the massive rectangle split open and folded out, revealing the _Serpentia_ nestled inside. Over the course of several minutes, the framework cocooning her pulled away, giving him a good view of her patched hull. She inched forwards out of her protective home, like one of Cross's dogs out of its doghouse when it had just woken up.

No, Cross decided when he noted the gaping bore of _Serpentia_'s bow cannon, more like a mountain wolf. The civilian ships parted as the battlestar 'rose' through the fleet, taking position just above it. "Alright, show's over, back to work" Carmilow said.

Cross shook himself away from the battlestar and began his examination of the faulty bomber"Well, it looks like the maneuvering jet flaps jammed from here."

"Could be. The biggest problem is that none of these have been flown in over a year, they're getting stiff" the deck crew chief responded.

Harew was confused. "Can a brd actually stiffen up like that?"

Cross turned around as much as he could, barely glimpsing the man out of the corner of his eye. "Oh yes, definitely, we've just got to work it out of her." He patted the dashboard again.

**Huxton: **"You are all clear _Serpentia_-actual, welcome back to the war" Marlay said.

Mirra tried not to let her voice shake as she gave orders. "It's a pleasure. Be advised for viper traffic _Vindication_-actual, I am initiating an action stations drill in five."

Huxton raised his eyebrows. "Good idea, we'll do the same."

Marlay relayed: "Admiral Huxton wishes to make this a joint drill."

"Understood, _Serpentia_ standing by."


	13. E3 part 5

**25****th**** Day of the Second Cylon War**

**Alexander:**

With a clang that reverberated through the undersea dome's hull the supports holding it to the bottom broke away. It rocked under Alexander's feet as it began to drift on its mooring cable up to the surface. Alexander sat back in his chair, and hoped that the cylons wouldn't detect them in this vulnerable state. And that the colonial fleet would actually be there waiting to save them from this slow, creeping death.

**Huxton:**

"The president is radioing us," Marlay announced.

Huxton held out a hand and she passed him the speaker. He uncomfortably raised it to his mouth, uncertain if they were still on positive terms. "Mr. President,"

"Admiral. I've been able to get you enough transports to carry five thousand people. Any more and we'll have critical overcrowding on the other ships."

Huxton was relieved that there was no anger now. They were coming together for the sake of the mission at hand, and that was a start. Nessella had convinced him of that at least. "Good enough. We'll use the Raptors and dropships for the remainder and stow them on the _Serpentia_. The transports need skeletal crews."

"I figured that would be the case and made preparations. The crews however have no combat experience."

"I figured that." Huxton thought he heard a stifled laugh on the other end. Ugh, at this rate they would be best friends. "I'm posting my XO aboard the largest transport."

"Alright then, best of luck."

"Thank you. Mission begins in one hour."

** Aelia:**

"Action stations, Action stations!" Aelia's grip tightened on the corners of her desk until her knuckles were strained. This was it: the moment when the Remnant returned to the colonies and the shooting started. The tension was crushing down on her like the weight of the battlestar itself, forcing her spine to bend down until she was staring straight at the desk and crushing her heart into her stomach. She was sweating profusely, at the thought of dying out here.

The old Gemonese priest had said in one of his services last week-the first time she'd ever attended a service-that if they died they would see their families. Aelia wanted to see her family in something other than the setting of her wishful dreams more than anything, but she was afraid of what lay beyond.

Aelia pulled one hand away and dipped it into a tightly buttoned pocket on her uniform. She withdrew a photo and placed it on her desk. It was of her family and Rachel's standing before the great observatory windows of the lost Picon fleet headquarters. Her memory dated it to an hour before the world ended. She looked at her mother and father, smiling despite the impending divorce, then at her older brother bravely between them. Her eyes dropped to her own smiling, oblivious face. She had one arm around her little sister and one around Rachel, whose other arm was on her little brother. Aelia didn't want to meet them empty handed, even though she wasn't sure vengeance was the right choice.

Someone put a hand on her shoulder. "We're jumping in five minutes, ready up" Marlay said in a painfully uncaring voice. Then as turned away she leaned in close to Aelia's stinging ears and tenderly whispered, "I understand, its okay to be afraid." Aelia reached out and tagged her on the side as she walked down the line of comm officers.

"Thank you" she whispered to herself. She looked down at the photo and promised "I'll make you proud." With trembling hand she put it away. She just barely forced her head up to look at the screen before her.

**Nessella:**

Colonel Amy Nessella sat down in the pilot's chair of the colonial liner _Alliaes_. She felt soft leather cushions beneath her and sighed. "You actually have padded seats," she said to the liner's captain, who had taken the copilot's chair.

"Yeah, you don't" the older man asked.

"Hard backed metal seats, and unless you're the commander you don't even have armrests." Nessella looked behind her, at the two other officers on the bridge and out the door to the rows of passenger seats. Fifteen of the liner's original eighty crew were left.

"That sucks" the captain said.

"It does. Now, lets get this running." She checked the engines: functioning. Her eyes were involuntarily drawn to a bright red safety regulations sticker plastered on the dashboard and peeled it off.

The captain's eyes widened and he grabbed, too late for the sticker before she threw it away." What are you doing? We need that!" he demanded.

"We are going to perform a steep-angle dive into a planetary atmosphere, in the middle of a major fleet engagement with cylons shooting at us. I think we have exceeded the safety regulations and we can dispose of this distraction." His mouth opened and shut, but no words came out. "Get me the radio please." She took it and found the _Vindication_'s frequency. "Nessella to _Vindication-_actual, reporting ready to go."

"Understood. Countdown is at three minutes" Marlay replied.

"Hey colonel, best of luck. Come back in one piece, okay?" Huxton cut in. Nessella smiled.

"I'll try my damn best admiral."

"Not good enough colonel, trying always ends badly, please come back."

"Then I will come back."

** Huxton:**

Huxton took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He looked at the DRADIS. The twenty-two ships including the six transports making the assault had broken away from the main fleet and were on station five klicks behind and two below. A further klick below that, the flak cruisers _Hoplon_ and _Peregrine_ were waiting. They would be jumping with the bomber wing to provide covering fire during the crucial bombing run. "All ships are ready?" he asked. Marlay had been given two minute's leave to make sure her people were in order, so Cage checked the comm station.

"All ships are ready and _Gehennia_ wishes us luck."

"Tell Merle to begin the show." Marlay burst onto the bridge, out of breath from running. She slumped in her station, chest heaving and pale face bright red.

"I'm on it," she got out.

Huxton looked up at the DRADIS one more time. They would be jumping into battle in a short time: his first battle as an admiral. There were so many variables, so many ways he could get them all killed. He took another deep breath and tried to relax.

**Cross:**

The forty bombers had been arrayed at either exit to the hangar pod, to expedite their departure. Cross sat in the cockpit of his bomber, watching his wristwatch tick. "All bombers, the light is green" Merle's voice crackled over his radio. Cross eased the Python off the ground and into space. Once clear of anything his exhaust trail could damage he fired his thrusters and accelerated towards the two flack cruisers. The Python handled like a cow and its starboard maneuvering thrusters were shaky, but it seemed like the deck crews had done their job.

Cross took up orbit around the nearest cruiser-the _Hoplon_-and oriented his nose with herrounded bow. He took a moment to examine her rows of AA cannon. "Do you think this is going to work?" Harew asked.

Cross chuckled, revealing a smile missing half its teeth. "You don't think before combat, you just take the plunge and hope you won't be doing the thinking on the other side."

"Alright then." Harew was visibly sweating. Cross sighed, and reminded himself that he had been the backseater in a civvie shuttle four weeks ago. The nuggets were going to need a bit of breaking in. They didn't speak further until the forty bombers were out and orbiting their escorts.

Cross made sure they were assembled, then radioed "we are assembled."

"You are clear, kill us some cylons" said Merle. Cross smiled and cracked his knuckles one at a time.

"Lets kill some cylons" he shouted, and accelerated forward. They would exit FTL with the same velocity they had entering, requiring a runup to the actual jump. Cross pumped full power into the engines, which thrummed in response. He looked around: he was leading the charge.

"Jump" he ordered.

…

Huxton watched the wing flash out of existence and turned to Nessella. "Start the countdown" he said.

She picked up the intercom. "Fifteen seconds to jump…fourteen…. thirteen…'"

…

Cross felt a jolt as the bomber flashed back into existence. He looked out his window-and saw a basestar looming up, an oval shaped light cruiser on either side of it.

"All ships accounted for!" Harew practically yelled. The high of being in combat was already getting to him, sending his adrenaline glands into overdrive.

Cross didn't answer. He just threw everything forward. Two red boxes appeared on his screen and began to close together. He put his thumb over the button that would send his torpedoes away. Every crew was looking at the same display.

The cylons themselves were caught unawares as the twenty bombers and cruiser shot forwards, an assassin's blade. Scattered in a very loose CAP, the thirty raiders in space were easily picked off by individual bursts of fire from the _Hoplon_. Several cruisers turned towards them, all too slow.

An alarm sounded in Cross' ear, indicating the basestar and escorts had locked onto them. The was close enough to see the basestar's hangar doors swing open.

Then his targeting computer beeped once. His thumb came down and gently tapped the button. The bomber thudded as the four missiles comprising half its mass winged away, trailing glowing exhaust. They were followed by seventy-six more.

Cross swung the bomber hard right and accelerated, his wing following him. Harew began spooling up the FTL drive. The _Hoplon_ ground to a halt an began its own turn, lagging far behind.

The missiles, unaffected by the basestar's inactive jammers, hit home. The basestar simply vanished in a series of increasing explosions culminating in one final blast that obliterated one of the escorting cruisers in the process. "Vengeance!" Cross bellowed with every other human present.

A missile whipped out of nowhere and connected with one of the bombers. It shattered. A second bomber plowed through the wreckage and was eviscerated. "Holy shit!" someone yelled. Cross checked his DRADIS. The second light cruiser had survived the blast that ended its sister from sheer luck. It was accelerating straight for them. The _Hoplon_ raked it with its guns to no avail. The half a dozen railgun turrets on the cylon cruiser's back replied, easily cutting through her lightly armored hull.

The cylon cruiser accelerated past and aimed for the bomber wing.

Cross remained calm. He'd been in combat enough that impending death did not shake him.

"FTL drive spooled up, jumping!" Harew screamed. Cross felt the comforting jolt as the bomber vanished, followed by the wing and the damaged cruiser. One bomber's FTL drive failed, leaving it to be shot apart.

The human cylons in space and on the planet below were just waking up and listening in disbelief to their radio dispatches. They assumed the skirmish was over. Instead, as that last bomber died, a series of targets were registered five hundred kilometers above Aquaria's southern sea. They could not believe the new reports. In the face all reports of the colonial fleet's complete destruction or flight beyond its red line, there was a full-scale colonial counterattack burning through the space above Aquaria.

**Huxton:**

Huxton felt the familiar jolt of the _Vindication_ exiting FTL. The DRADIS quickly powered up. He demanded "Get me a sitrep."

Cage, temporary XO, had it in seconds: "All friendlies are in. I have dissipating heat signatures from two detonated basestars" his voice rose. "Remaining two basestars are exactly where Eyes reported they would be, and there's about twenty support ships around them."

DRADIS finally came online. Huxton was relieved to see his fleet had emerged in its three-dimensional arrowhead formation, five hundred kilometers from Aquaria's surface. The four medium and seven light cruisers and the gunstar were on the outside of the formation. The battlestars were in the middle, with the missile cruisers flanking them and the transports and faststar _Apollo_ huddled between them. The cylon ships were spread out around Aquaria, caught completely off guard. "What kind of ships are we talking about?"

"I count eight light cruisers, six mediums, a trio of light basestars, two battlecruisers, and three ships that do not match classification. None are bigger than six hundred meters."

The plan was still viable. Marlay was waiting to relay orders, so Huxton began. "All ships, accelerate on vector nine zero three at flank speed. Designate nearer basestar as Tower one, further basestar as Tower two. Battlestars are to focus fire on Tower one." Then out of the side of his jagged mouth to Cage: "full power to main weapons grid."

The _Vindication_'s twelve spinal turrets rose out of their recesses and swiveled to aim at the nearer cylon basestar. Huxton felt a slight vibration as they fired. Four hundred kilometers away, the basestar's midsection was cratered. The _Serpentia_'s first salvo connected with its lower segment, which shook under the titanic impacts. The basestar's DRADIS signature expanded as it launched its raiders. "Launch all vipers, have them hold defensive formation, we'll let them come to us for now."

Their own vipers appeared on the screen, a pitifully small and thinly spread belt of green dots around the colonial formation. The _Vindication _fired her second salvo. Their support ships had joined in by now, peppering the assembling cylon fleet with tungsten and missiles. A pair of ribbons blossomed from the missile cruisers as they cut loose with thirty atlatls apiece.

The _Vindication_ jolted. "Conventional missile hit, sector eighteen," an ensign reported. Huxton winced. The _Vindication_ couldn't take much in her current state.

"Cylon raiders are moving in to attack our topside, the supports are following them in" Cage added.

Over a thousand cylon raiders raced across the space between the opposing fleets as a sold wall of metal and oscillating red eyes,. Their cruisers trailed behind them. Huxton waited until they were within a hundred kilometers: effective range of the flak shells. "Flak field open fire, firing solution Active Beta Tetra Ten Zero."

The Tribarrelled 180 mm and double barreled 40 mm AA guns arrayed along the flanks of both battlestars and the support ships elevated to meet the charge and spat fire. In their tight groups, the raiders were shot down en masse, up to five at a time vanishing with each puff of jagged grey shrapnel.. The lines of glowing yellow tracers carved through them. It wasn't enough to stop them all, especially as their own cruisers entered the field of fire.

**Slammer:**

The viper rose at a touch of the throttle until its nose pointed straight at the onrushing raiders. Slammer looked out of his canopy at his wingman, one of the nuggets given the unlucky call sign of 'Bullseye'. It was disconcerting having the shaking voice of a traumatized teenager on his radio instead of Cross' delightfully over the top bellowing, but he managed.

"They're getting in range, engage" Merle said.

Slammer tried not to let his excitement show in his voice "Lets take them. Remember, watch for the flak field and stay with your wingman." He let out a burst of power from his engines. The experienced pilots followed with perfect timing, but Bullseye and most of the nuggets lagged behind, stretching out the formation. Slammer's-and to an extent, Merle's-heart jumped. "Close it up back there!" he warned. He saw the cylon raiders racing forwards, and realized it was too late to do anything but attack.

He fired the first shot at the raiders, winging one. He swore, and then had to veer off as the two formations merged and flying straight became the fastest way to die. Weaving through the seething cloud of fighters, there was no time to think, just react and call for Bullseye as dozens of crescent shaped targets flew past his canopy. The radio became filled with chatter from pilots and Merle's flight control, which did its best to coordinate the battle. Without thinking Slammer nosed the viper over and pulled the trigger, his tracers cutting through the 'head' of the unsuspecting raider in his sights. Much to his surprise his nose was splattered with red fluid as it passed the wreckage**. **

**"**We've got three big ones on us, can't shake them!" 'Hornet' shouted frantically. Slammer spotted him and his wingman on DRADIS and pulled an eighty-degree turn to port and accelerated towards a triangle of three heavy raiders pressing the attack on the two frantically ducking vipers.

"I see you Hornet." He settled into pursuit, for just the half a second needed for his targeting computer to achieve target lock. Then he let six missiles fly.

Two heavy raiders veered away in opposite directions, but the third-either suffering from determination tunnel vision or having not noticed the missiles-continued straight ahead. Both missiles pounced on it, vaporizing it in a small flash of light and a cloud of vapor. Slammer shot past Hornet and whipped around. "Thank you" Brick said.

"Welcome." Slammer's computer beeped twice; both raiders splashed. A raider dove at him both cannons firing and he had to dive away. Hornet spun his bird on its axis and raked his cannons over it.

"And now we're even."

"We are."

"Slammer, where are you, they're all over me!" Bullseye abruptly cried, his voice shaking in fear.

Slammer spotted him on the other end of the furball, with three raiders chasing him. "I'm coming. Someone get to Bullseye!" Hornet and his wingman settled in behind him.

"All other birds are occupied," Merle reported. _Frack_. Slammer accelerated as fast as he could. He blew apart two raiders directly in his path, and Hornet had to veer off to intercept seceral more aiming at another viper. Bullseye, with skill born of desperation, was dancing and jinking through space, making himself an impossible target to hit. Slammer smiled through his clenched teeth at his luck.

Then a fourth raider joined in on the attack. "Too many!" Bullseye screamed and flew for the perceived safety of the _Vindication_'s forty-kilometer distant bulk in a straight line. Slammer's pulse wnet wild.

"Turn, turn damnit you're a sitting duck!" He achieved lock on the rear two raiders and fired two missiles. The kills were too late. The cylon cannon round came down on Bullseye. His viper lost one wing, then everything in front of the cockpit. Just as Slammer was gunning the final raider his wreck exploded-and an ejection seat shot out. It was too much to hope for. "Bullseye, can you hear me?"

"I'm alright!" For an instant Slammer's humanity overcame him.

"Thank you gods" he gasped, and maneuvered alongside the suite. Then he heard Hornet's final scream as two missiles smashed his viper and it vanished. "You idiot, what is the first thing we taught you? Never fly in a straight line." He accelerated off, as another pilot's scream pierced his eardrums.

**Huxton:**

To the admiral, the furball was nothing but a collection of red and green dots playing out with apathetic silence. All Huxton needed to know from them was that his depleted viper wings were barely holding against the overwhelming numbers of raiders.

The _Vindication_ shook, knocking several officers to the floor. "Twenty kiloton detonation on sector thirteen, multiple cracks have appeared in the hull" Cage reported. "The cylons seem to be targeting us primarily."

That was easy to explain, and Huxton had feared as much. "They can detect the damage we've taken, they're finishing us off. I want the _Serpenita_ to shift firepower from her flack screen to protecting us, she can take a couple more hits while we can't." Marlay relayed that.

"The cylon cruisers are witin two hundred klicks" helmsman Grissom reported. Huxton glanced up at the rough line of larger red dots crawling cross the screen towards them. Two of the dual ovuloid hulled medium cruisers and a light cruiser had been destroyed at range, adding their gutted wreckage to the already impressive debris belt around aquaria. The other seventeen ships were still coming. They were unorganized and they were separating to take on the colonial ships one on one instead of concentrating their firepower.

"Order the cruiser line to engage formation bulwark-delta and intercept the cylons fifty kilometers out. Designate the light basestars and battlecruisers as priority targets."

The colonial support ships rose above the two battlestars and arrayed themselves in a rectangular prism with the Gunstar _Andanatos _to the rear where her slow maneuvering 1000 mm guns would have maximum firing effectiveness. Their fire became coordinated, with Huxton's handpicked squadron leaders calling out targets for the trio of ships they each commanded.

The tide of red crashed into the wall of green. The smooth, silvery hulled and almost organic cylon cruisers were forced to veer off at the last second and the rugged and patched colonial ships maneuvered to block their new vectors. Missiles and railgun shells crossed the space between the two fleets, while the battlestar's 600-millimeter secondary railguns provided support. Huxton quickly saw that the cylon warships were faster than his own, but were more fragile. Several cruisers and a battlecruiser fell in the opening minutes, and a light basestar holding back from the main fight so it could launch its missiles with impunity, collapsed into a fan shaped debris field under fire from the _Andanatos_

Huxton had to move fast to keep up with the battle. "Light cruiser _Thanatos_, cylon unidentified support bearing towards the missiles ships on vector eight delta two, move to intercept. Medium cruiser _Ceres, _flank that unidentified." The dagger shaped cylon warship was headed off just before it could fire on the lightly armored _Artemis_. The _Thanatos_ slid onto its approach vector and opened fire with her one meter bore bow guns while the _Ceres_ settled into ordbit around her and began pounding. The flak cruiser _Hoplon_ flashed into existence of and fired her engines, spitting blue plasma as she lumbered into battle.

"Radiological alarm!" ensign Burres warned. "Two nukes inbound, aiming for-"

The lights flickered. "Who was it?" Huxton demanded.

"Twenty kiloton detonations on cruisers _Hermes _and _Canceron_. Both have lost primary power and are drifting clear."

"Have the _Valor_, and _Intrepid_ cover them until they can jump out."

A message scrolled across Cage's computer. His face lit up with triumph when he read it. "Tower one is going down, we hit her reactors."

The basestar, now two hundred kilometers away, was immolated in a brief flash and a glowing orb of light. Huxton didn't relax. "Shift fire to Tower two. What is our altitude?"

"We are one-hundred and eighty miles above the southern sea." Huxton nodded and looked back up at the DRADIS. The cylon support fleet had lost. It was reduced to just nine ships who were backing away from the fight. His vipers had finally gotten the upper hand over the raiders with the aid of the returned _Hoplon_, and they too were falling back.

It was time to begin the rescue. Huxton had to modify his plan slightly, but it would still work. He nodded at Marlay: "Cruisers are to break formation and pursue the remaining cylon warships, with battlestars taking defensive station at an altitude of two hundred kilometers. Transports have the green light." He walked over to Marlay's desk as she relayed his commands. She looked up, puzzled. She saw his jaw tighten for a moment and the omnipresent worry lines in his brow deepen. "Tell the colonel good luck."

** Nessella:**

The _Alliaes'_ captain read a message off his station. He tensed and turned to Nessella. "The admiral says we're going in."

She looked out at the battle. The cylons had been pushed back but there were still plenty of raiders around, and only one was needed to take out one of these nerve-wracking fragile transports. The walls keeping the air in were probably no more than half a meter thick at best. "Well then, lets get moving." The _Alliaes'_ externally mounted pod engines engaged. Nessella found herself missing the swift acceleration and comfortable thrumming of military hardware.

She took point as the five transports and the escorting_ Apollo_ lumbered towards Aquaria. The _Thanatos_ joined the convoy with thirty vipers. "Woah". Nessella relaxed slightly at the increased firepower and turned her attention to the planet.

From their altitude Aquaria was deceptively calm. Its deep blue seas stretched across much of the visible hemisphere, punctuated by island chains and a single crescent shaped continent in the equatorial regions. She could make out the orange scars of nuclear blasts and grey patches where the sea life had died en masse. She spotted the southern ocean and pointed the _Alliaes_' blunt nose towards it. Somewhere amongst those rolling waves, a titanium bubble containing one fourteenth of the human race was rising to the surface.

A shrill alarm split her eardrums. Confused, she looked to the captain, whose eyes had gone wide in fear. "We have been targeted!" he said.

She looked out into space. A dozen raiders had slipped past the vipers and overlapping flak fields and were fast approaching, their silhouettes recognizable on the radar display. They were going for the fat juicy kills the transports offered, their curved wings angled like daggers to carve them apart.

The vipers raced into intercept them and the _Thanatos _and _Apollo_ opened fire with their AA guns. The raiders ducked and weaved, but continued straight on, determined to kill something before inevitably dying. Four long enough to launch their missiles. Twelve warheads streaked towards the fleet. The vipers intercepted eight before they had outrun them. The _Thanatos_ and _Apollo_ targeted the last four, their AA guns having trouble targeting the smaller, faster targets. Even so, two went down. The other two veered for the _Allieas_. A curse rose in Nessella's throat as they grew visible at the head of their contrails. 'Eighty percent of the last words a pilot says before become a fatality are oh shit' some voice from a long time ago said in her head. She ignored the irony.

The _Apollo_ swooped in and opened fire with its big guns. On missile was hit by the massive shells. The other kept going, too close to be stopped. The _Apollo_ took the hit in her port winglet. The blast rocked the little faststar and Nessella could make out debris and gas escaping her hull as she drifted backwards and fell behind. "_Apollo_, are you alright?" she asked. The nose of the _Allieas_ jolted as she hit the outermost strands of the atmosphere. Nessella steepened her dive.

"We are damaged but alive, continuing with atmospheric approach" Major Anderson replied

The ship was listing badly to one side, a gaping hole blown in her underside. "Negative _Apollo_, your hull has been compromised, return to the fleet."

"Sorry" Anderson said solemnly, and the faststar turned away.

Flames blossomed as they pushed through the atmosphere. It took five minutes to decelerate and reach the rendezvous point. Nessella was startled at what she saw. A small dome was floating in the middle of the ocean surrounded by submarines. On the platform ringing it she could see the multicolored masses of thousands of people.

A voice cut over the radio. "This is Alexander Wynne, can you hear me." Nessella snatched up the radio headset and pulled it on.

"Alexander, this is colonel Nessella, colonial fleet. We're evacuating you."

Alexander was exhuberant when he replied. "Good to hear colonel! Everyone's packe dup to go." Nessella did not respond, as she and the captain were preoccupied with turning the _Allieas_ so its primary airlock faced the platform and matching the bucking dome in the water. She finally got it set in. The airlock was opened by three crewmen, who were quickly swamped by the hoard of refugees pouring in.

Eager voices began echoing down the empty halls. Nessella looked over her shoulder and saw the first survivors pouring in. They were blinking and shielding their eyes in the brigh light as they piled into the rows of seats. Several small children ran down the aisles, their parents chasing them. Nessella smiled. Six thousand people were alive because of them now; penance for the fiasco with the _Alera_.

"Hello?" a man appeared in the doorway.

"Hello" Nessella said. "I am guessing you're Alexander?"

"Yes that's me."

"Take a seat then, we'll be back in orbit shortly." The alarm rang again. She leaned over to look at the radar. "Forty plus raiders are inbound, I suggest you strap in" she shouted to him. He leapt into a chair and snapped its five point harness over himself.

The raiders were intercepted two kilometers overhead, out of their line of sight. They could do nothing but hear their viper pilots calling to each other and see the splash of wreckage falling into the sea, some of which looked like viper remains. Two raiders made it over the dome. A pair of missiles burst from the ocean and streaked up to intercept them. A white military submarine burst from the waves and began launching missiles into the air.

Alexander saw the astonished look on Nessella's face and smiled. "That's the _Charybdis_. She was our only combat asset," he explained. "Her crew will abandon ship and set her missile batteries to auto fire, she'll cover our escape."

"Impressive" she conceded. She heard the refugee's shouting and spun around, expecting a problem. A bald, dark skinned man was standing in the middle of the room, a gun in one hand and a white and black sphere in the other. The refugees had withdrawn to the walls and under the seats.

"Jimmy, what are you doing?" Alexander asked. "That's the chief medical officer of one of the refugee ships, he's been helping us."

"No he's not, he's a cylon!" Nessella screamed and leapt up. At the word the man spun around. She drew her sidearm with practiced speed and pointed it at him. "Put the gun down and you walk away" she said. The man cackled.

"I am a cylon? No, I'm just a man looking for a quick transport into deep space and a few hostages. You colonial military officers have run your scam long enough. We all know that your story of the colonies being destroyed was all a trick to kidnap us." He grinned maniacally.

"You're holding a cylon device," Nessella countered. His eyes widened and went to the sphere. In that instant delay she shot him in the wrist. He let out a scream and his gun went flying in a spray of blood. He turned to run, and she shot him in the meat of his thigh. He went down, and the nearest refugees pounced on him. Nessella turned to the captain. "Radio the fleet, we've found another cylon model, tell them cylon reinforcements may be incoming."

**Huxton:**

The second basestar broke apart, and the battlefield went still. "Form up in planetary defense formation B over the rescue sight" Huxton ordered. "We won but lets not get cocky here."

At that moment five basestars and forty support ships jumped in just a few hundred kilometers away and opened fire.


	14. E3 Part 6

**Huxton:**

Cage's eyes were glued to the screen. Tactical detected missiles exiting the cylon ships and estimated their arrival time at twenty-eight seconds. A Geiger counter began ticking. "Twenty nuclear missiles inbound, eighty conventional right behind them."

Huxton knew that the automated AA batteries wouldn't be able to get all of them, but an area of effect weapon would. "_Artemis_ is to launch one Atlatl salvo along cylon missile's incoming vector and detonate when the formations cross."

"Relaying." The _Artemis_'s DRADIS signature momentarily expanded as thirty missiles erupted from their launchers along her flanks. Six seconds later they crossed paths with the incoming cylon missiles and detonated. Cage's jaw dropped when tactical went blank. "All clear!" Everyone on the bridge heaved a momentary sigh of relief.

"Admiral, half the fleet is requesting we withdraw!" Marlay said.

Huxton's fists clenched as he imagined Amy and the six thousand people they'd come for looking up into the sky to see the pinpricks of light that marked the remnant's escape to FTL, and knowing that they were alone. He spun around and glared at Marlay, who cowered against her seat at its ferocity. "We are leaving no one behind down there. Tell the fleet to pull back into a bastion formation, and stop bothering me so I can think."

"O-okay" Marlay stammered, her face pale.

Huxton turned back to the screen. "Designate basestars left to right towers thre through seven."

The DRADIS signatures of the Basestars blossomed and split apart into thousands of raiders. They accelerated towards the fleet, the supports following in their wake. "I have fifteen hundred raiders inbound, ETA forty seconds" Cage reported. He'd never seen so many fighters at once. Their own viper wing was a tiny red puff in comparison to the storm front advancing on them.

Huxton put his hands to his ears to block out the shouting and alarms, and blocked out the smell of perspiration that pervaded the air. He went through the various plans he'd drawn up over the years. There were several for facing overwhelming enemy fighters. He needed to choose the best one. Cage's eyes went wide at his behavior. "Admiral?" he asked.

Huxton ignored him, until he came up with the plan he guessed would have the best odds of success. He looked up and locked eyes with Cage. "Major, how many nukes do we have?, and what type"

"Eighteen here, twenty-five on the Serpentia, and two on the _Gehennia._ The _Serpentia_ is the only one with fifty megaton warheads, six of them. Everything else is fifty kilotons"

Huxton cringed at the low tally. "I am authorizing a nuclear fire mission in tubes ten through twelve. Target the center of the incoming raider formation. I am also authorizing a four-missile fifty megaton fire mission on the _Serpentia_, on my mark. Target is here." He pointed to a pont as equidistant from the basestars as he could make it. A midshipman took the coordinates down and transmitted them.

As the first missiles sailed away, Cage wondered what the plan was. Taking out the raiders was understandable, but the second salvo of missiles would detonate well out of effective range, releasing radiation-and an EMP pulse.

"I like the EMP idea" he said.

Huxton nodded with approval for the speed he'd caught on. "Thank you. Lets hope it works. Get me the _Serpentia_." He took the radio. "Commander Mirra, are the missiles prepared?"

"They're in the tubes and idling, the cylons can pick them up" Mirra said.

"No problem. Prepare to launch." The _Vindication_'s three missiles detonated amidst the approaching raiders halfway between the two fleets. Anyone watching the battle with the naked eye like slammer was momentarily blinded by the triple white flash. On the surface Nessella, standing outside to guide the remaining refugees inside saw a flare of white light in the sky and hoped it wasn't the _Vindication. _On the battlestar DRADIS and tactical flickered for a few seconds as the sensors were blinded by radiation. When it came back on there were a few hundred raiders scattered around, with the oncoming cruisers veering to either side. "Launch the nukes" Huxton ordered.

"Nukes away." Huxton watched them sail through the space, spiraling to confuse any incoming AA fire. By the time the radiation had cleared enough to enable any they were out of effective range of the flatfooted cylon cruisers.

"That's what you get for not escorting your capital ships" Cage muttered as the nukes flew unmolested between the basestars and detonated. DRADIS flickered and came back online. Cage examined the tactical. "All five basestars are offline temporarily and the EMP has momentarily shut down the supports." Huxton had bought them thirty seconds at most.

"Good, all ships concentrate fire on tower three. Marlay-" Marlay was sitting back in her seat, hands clenched together. "Ask colonel Nessella for ETA on completion of evacuation."

**Nessella:**

Nessella and Alexander were pulling the last few refugees onboard. A woman cradling a bawling baby was the last person onboard. They shut the airlock and pushed through the mass of pale humans crowding the passenger cabin on their way back to the bridge. "Colonel, the admiral wants our evac ETA" the captain shouted to her over the hubbub of almost fifteen hundred voices.

"Our ETA is under two minutes! Get her into the air!" Nessella shouted. The carpeted floor beneath her feet lurched violently, throwing her forward onto the deck. Several hundred people fell, screaming. Nessella leapt up and ran forwards. She took the helm from the captain and angled the _Alliaes_ upwards. The old ship's weak engines struggled under the weight of twice its normal passenger complement propelling it into the air. It would take a full minute for those engines to propel them back into space.

**Huxton:**

In thirty seconds the combined fire of the fleet had burst a basestar like a rotten tomato and laid waste to a dozen support ships. Now the remaining four were moving in to attack while their remaining supports engaged the outnumbered colonials.

The space above Aquaria's southern hemisphere resembled a fireworks display. Lead railgun slug made the trip between the two fleets within milliseconds, while missiles took a longer route that left a trail of exhaust in their wake. From a thousand kilometers away, an observer could have mistaken the rapid flashes of detonations on both sides of the engagement as a two-front firework show, like the ones put up on Colonial day.

For Huxton, it was a fast moving game of chess, one he was losing by default. The cylons had lost two thirds of their raiders, but his point defenses and few vipers simply couldn't take them all and the horde of incoming missiles. The _Vindication_ was rocked with repeated missile hits to her port side. In return the _Serpentia_ disintegrated a second basestar. "Fires are underway in sectors eight and ten, damage control is responding" Cage reported.

Huxton's ship was running out of time. Several support ships were listing heavily too. "What about the rest of the fleet?"

"Taking damage, multiple ships are reporting structural fatigue."

Structural fatigue was when a ship's structure began to give way under repeated blows, often resulting in the ship breaking apart or irreversible damage. Huxton couldn't afford either of those anywhere. "Order the ships to jump as soon as their structure starts to go, we can't afford to lose anyone else."

The sensor beams of one cylon battlecruiser detected a crack running across the _Vindication_'s port hangar, and buckled armor plating beyond that. It relayed the information to one of the remaining basestars. The battlecruiser and two others were directed to take advantage of it. They shifted to the _Vindication_'s port side. Eight railgun turrets along each of their cylindrical central hulsl and four more on the bulbous bows lined up and fired. The port hangar pod split open from end to end and perforated straight through. Fuel lines ignited, and flames raced up the pod's mount to the battlestar's main hull. They punched through at maneuvering jet nozzles in a series of explosions that engulfed the port side.

Her occupants felt it as an earthquake. The decks shook like a leaf in the wind. Fires broke out in a dozen places. Corridors buckled and the battlestar screamed in agony.

Huxton pushed himself up from the desk and swallowed blood from his sinuses. "Gunnery, target whoever did that and blow them apart. Cage get me a status report!" he demanded.

Cage was on his knees, cursing the bridge's designer from Caprica to Kobol for not including chairs on all stations. "Fuel pod detonation portside. Port hangar pod is gone, maneuvering thrusters aft of the alligator head are gone on the port side. Sectors eight, ten, and fifteen are not responding."

Grissom had worse news. "Altitude is at one hundred and eight miles and dropping, we're falling out of orbit." The _Vindication_'s wing had been clipped, and she was plummeting from the sky.

They couldn't leave the fleet without a leader though. Huxton began saving his ship. "Point engines straight into gravity well and fire at flank speed. Have _Serpentia_ take position at coordinates nine-bravo six-gamma thirteen-sigma." The _Vindication_ moved like she was drunk, as she oriented her ornamented thrusters towards Aquaria. From behind the shield of the _Serpentia_ she resumed firing. Screams of agony became screams of rage, and her railgun rounds penetrated the battlecruisers.

"Admiral, I have the transports on DRADIS, coming up fast."

**Nessella:**

From the cockpit of the _Alliaes_ the situation looked bad for the remnant. They were pinned above Aquaria and being slowly chipped away. Most heart wrenching of all was the sight of the _Vindication_'s hull glowing with internal fires. All they were doing was waiting for the transports. Nessella could only do one thing to help. "All transports, do not wait for clearance, jump now!" she ordered.

Jumping in an atmosphere required fighting against a planet's significant gravitational pull and magnetic field. For a colonial navy ship's powerful jump drive the difference wouldn't be noticeable. For the civilian ships however, it was significantly harder to accomplish. Nessella's teeth clenched as her body strained to the tearing point and the ship around it creaked. Then they were gone. Five seconds later, there was a peaceful starscape around them and the train of ships that was the fleet a few kilometers ahead.

**Huxton:**

"Transports are gone!" Cage reported.

Huxton's heart skipped a beat. "Destroyed?"

"No, jumped without clearance." Huxton allowed himself a satisfied smile. That was good thinking Amy, that was good.

"Let us follow the good colonel's example. All ships withdraw and jump." His fleet disengaged and retreated. One after another they flashed out, until only the two battlestars were left. Then Huxton felt a faint tingling, and they jumped too.

The _Vindication_ emerged from a nimbus of blue light twenty kilometers off the fleet's port sector. She remained limp, slowly rolling over and over, fires burning beneath her hull. "Jump fracked our fuel lines, I shut them off before they blew" Radin radioed in.

"Thank you" Huxton replied.

Radin called them first. "_Gehennia_-actual to _Vindication_-actual, are you alright?"

"We are dead in space but alive, _Gehennia actual_" Marlay replied.

"Well that's to be thankful for. We received your transports, you're going to be getting the hero's welcome, listen." The sound of hundreds of voices cheering echoed over the damaged bridge and her wounded crew. The corners of Cage's thin lips twisted upwards. Marlay took the voices in. Each one was a prayer to her. Huxton didn't feel any emotion; he just put his hand on his console and felt his girl's pain and rage.

The military ships limped back into formation or to one of several flattop repair ships of various designs that were in the fleet. The _Serpentia_ took up point on the fleet. The _Largos_ broke formation and lumbered to the _Vindication_. Her bow swung open and the smaller battlestar came to rest inside. Huxton felt a sigh course through her, and then he smiled. Damage control crews from the drydock would be swarming over his battlestar to fix her up.

He got on the fleetwide comm. "Attention colonial remnant. This is admiral Huxton speaking. The mission to Aquaria was a complete success. We have rescued a total of six thousand humans. Cylon casualties are six basestars, at least thirty-six support ships, and an unknown number of raiders believed to be in the thousands. That is all, may the gods be with you." He sat back. Cage walked over and patted him on the shoulder.

"I'm going to be honest admiral, I thought we were dead out there" he said quietly.

"Aye." Huxton had an amusing thought. "Those were the best odds we'll ever get, you know that? The cylons know we're here now and they are going to be angry."

Both men started laughing. It was tortured and uncanny laughter though. "Why do I even find this funny?" Cage asked aloud.

"Because given the amount of times life has kicked us in the groin in the past three weeks, anything is funny" Huxton theorized. Both men thought about that, and sobered up fast. The radeio beeped once, and Marlay handed Cage a sheet of paper. "What is it?" Huxton asked.

"We got some interesting sensor data off our nuclear attack on the basestars." Huxton's curiosity was piqued.

"What is it?"

"The EMP should not have worked as well as it did, because the nukes did not emit an EMP."

"Then what did they emit? Happy thoughts?"

"Neutrinos. A loader set them for neutrino bursts by mistake, and they were very effective against the basestars. Now, Neutrinos are effective primarily against organics, which means that-"

"Someone thinks that the cylon basestar has organic components" Huxton finished. "Interesting theory, we'll look into that." They remained in silence for several minutes.

"I have to say hello to my family" Cage said.

"You do that, everyone here is relieved of duty for a little bit of R&R" Huxton replied. He let his body collapse back in his seat, and his eyes traversed so he could watch space traffic control. The bridge gradually emptied out, but he remained sitting there. Until a transport identified as the _Alliaes_ docked with the _Largos_.

**Veris:**

Veris took a moment to smile at the dark skinned cylon chained to the gurney with chains designed to hold down vipers. He looked around at his two assistants and the medbay. "Well then, we're going to find what makes you tick" he taunted, and held up a bone drill. The cylon's's bulging eyes glared at him.

"Do you know how many humans I watched die. Do you know how they screamed?" he whispered. "It was so satisfying to watch. Why not kill me now if you want vengeance so badly?" Veris felt a chill run down his spine. He dispelled it with the thought of operating without anesthetics.

"Very satisfying, I suppose. Not nearly as satisfying as cutting you open without anesthesia will be." The two other doctors snickered.

"Hey doctor, that violates a few rules of the trade, doesn't it?"

"According to the documents the boys found on you, ou're a doctor too, I suppose you would know. Here's the thing:" Veris leaned in close, until his face was all the cylon could see. "You're not a human. What I do to you, does not affect my standing in any way." He smiled. The cylon's eyes widened.

**Cross:**

The Pantheon was originally a section of storage space in sector twenty-four, just before the final structure frame before the engineering compartments. A year prior to the destruction of the colonies Lieutenant Torrin Adano, second officer of the second watch had won big on shore leave in a casino. He had used his winnings to open the Pantheon and his connections in the Scorpian dockyards to furnish it. It was separated from the corridors by a royal blue privacy curtain and contained twenty tables seating six apiece. A bar ran along one wall and a drink refrigerator had been built into the back. Cage had objected to its prescence, but Huxton and Nessella had approved of the morale boost it gave. So the Pantheon stayed and made Adano wealthy by crew standards.

Cross raised his drink. "A toast, to my boy Heston and our vipers!" he patted Slammer on the back. Forty glasses rose in unison. Slammer's wasn't one of them. Cross eyed him disapprovingly as the men and women around him-Python and Viper pilot alike- cheered and resumed drinking. "Cheer up a little, we're celebrating you" he admonished.

Slammers frown remained and his first drink was still full. "I appreciate it Jamie. I'm thinking about the pilots we lost. They are yours too."

Cross's eyes widened. "I feel them too Hes. I've just gotten used to watching men die under me. Between the coup, the pirate wars, and hell, event he first cylon war, I've grown used to the death screams." He smoothed down his spiky white helmet-hair. "You will too soon enough."

Slammer didn't know if that was a good thing, or a bad one. He worked up enough of a sense of triumph and raised his glass. "A toast, to Mr. Erics and his Python boys. A suicide attack isn't supposed to lose only seven birds and accomplish all objectives!" The glasses went up.

**Aelia:**

Aelia snuggled up as best she could in one of the folding chairs in the fore observatory. Rachel took the one next to her. There were an assortment of crewmen and civilians sparsely populating the seats around them, but they were far enough apart and numerous enough to guarantee privacy.

"I heard you guys did awesome," Rachel said. They were face to face, reclining as best they could under blankets dragged frm their respective bunks.

"We somehow survived. I feel like shit though," Aelia said. The battle had been less than twenty minutes long though it had seemed to be hours when she was in the moment. She was flushed. Her body was soaked with sweat and there were bruises on her sides and forehead from being thrown around in the last explosion.

"You definitely don't look like the movie stars did" Rachel noted. Aelia giggled. "Was it scary?"

"Yes, very. Relaying all the transmissions with half the manpower was nerve-wracking. One screw-up and I've killed somebody. Plus I'm reading them and there's a huge battle going on…" she trailed off out of exhaustion and slumped with a sigh. One of Rachel's pale hands emerged from her blanket and caressed her brow. Her smile brightened the dimly lit room itself. "How about you Rach, I'd think you'd have it worse, not knowing what's going on and everyone screaming."

"It was terrifying. Me and a couple other kids were huddled together in a corner. Then that last blast nearly killed us." Aelia took her hand and squeezed it. They turned to watch the stars. "I guess you're a soldier now, girl."

**Huxton:**

Huxton emerged on the _Vindication_'s cavernous mustering grounds on his way aft to enter the airlock to the _Largos_. It had been heavily damaged. Several areas had been cordoned off with neon blue hazard tape on account of sparking electronics, and several steel beams perforated the ceiling's aluminum skin. Worst of all, it was crowded with people. Most were even civilians. They saw him,and gradually stepped aside to form a corridor to the opposite door one hundred yards distant.

This wasn't some chance politeness, Huxton could tell by every eye staring at him as he walked past. Halfway across two humans stepped out. One was barely five feet tall, with a bushy black beard and the off-white uniform of an Aquarian naval officer. The other was the same as his five nine, with piercing blue eyes and bad stubble. His thick winter coat seemed to have some official significance, but Huxton couldn't recognize it. He could guess who the man was, though.

"Mr. Alexander Wynne." He proffered his hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Admiral Adriatic Huxton, you're a fine sight." They shook hands. Suddenly everyone inside was applauding, laughing, cheering. In the room it was deafening. Huxton was bewildered. "These are my people. We're just waiting to be assigned to a permanent transport!" Alexander shouted over the collective roar.

Huxton nodded. Then it hit him that they were applauding for him. _What_. The noise assaulted him harder than any basestar could. He saluted the naval officer, waved all around him, and hastily departed lest he start blushing.

Alexander smiled as the applause died down. He would be talking to the new colonial president very soon.

Huxton exited the room and hurried away. On instinct he spun around-and saw Nessella leaning against the wall on the right of the doorframe. "Like your reception?" she asked innocently.

"You know how I feel about public events," Huxton grunted. She rolled her eyes. "It was a bit heartwarming," he quickly admitted.

Nessella nodded. "I got the same thing back on the _Allieas_. These people are desperate for something to be happy for, after everything they've been through."

"Well isn't that obvious to tell." She wrinkled her nose. He motioned to her and they walked down the corridor. Looking her over, Huxton noticed a bloodstain on her uniform and that her hair was no longer entirely in its bun. Huxton remembered what he'd been meaning to tell her. "Nice thinking, jumping without waiting a minute for clearance. It really saved our asses." She smiled. He took her hand. He palms were rough from scar tissue. "And I liked how you put down the infiltrator."

"Thank you." She smiled. They stopped at the exit. Beyond the door was the spinal corridor, which ran the length of the ship. As it wasn't acceptable for the command officer to kiss their XO in public unless the battlestar was Libran, they would have to wait here. "Something on your mind, Hux?"

Huxton's brow had been furrowed in thought. "Yes Amy. I was planning the food run back to the colonies. We've got six-four thousand more people now than we started with." He remembered the _Alera_. She nodded. "Eighty-four thousand people." Nessella nodded. The highboth had been feeling began to drain away.

"We'll work on it in your quarters, in an hour." Then she grabbed him and planted her lips on his. Huxton closed his eyes and did his best not to think about anything else as a faint scent of perfume washed over him. He had one hand on her waist, one on the back of her head.

They broke apart. Huxton remembered the smiling faces, the destroyed cylon basestars, then look Amy in the eyes. "Lets go back," he whispered. They started walking.

**Identity Unknown:**

"You said the colonials were trampled at our feet, we all heard the announcement of victory. What the frak happened?" Number six glared at number one.

"We did win, look at Caprica. Note the destroyed battlestars and nuclear detonations across the major population centers. Note the survivors lying dead in the streets" number one replied indignantly. He sat down on the command table of the basestar. Six had interrupted his search for the half-human, but he had all the time in the world for that.

Six was not satisfied. "Look at _Aquaria_, note the destroyed _Basestars_, note the humans are not in fact dead, but sitting in space preparing their vengeance. Then there are the Galactica and Pegasus issues." One dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

"All in good time. _Pegasus_ is heavily damaged and reduced to hitting small supply convoys. _Galactica_ has a suitably large force of basestars following her. As for this Colonial Remnant, as they call it." He spat the name out. "They are on our home turf. We will crush them."

Six sighed. "I hope you don't live to eat those words, One." Cavil merely smiled as she walked away. Such children, the other models were. He had tempered them for his purpose of destroying the human race, and without their five parents guiding them they had gone along with his plan. He accessed a console built in to the table. There were two hundred and fifty basestars in colonial and cylon space. The Remnant would grind down in due time.

**End Episode 3**


	15. Episode 4: Ten Alone: part 1

**42****nd**** Day of the Second Cylon War:**

** Ravin:**

The heavy cruiser _Gehennia_ drifted in deep space. Her nose was aimed at a nonexistent point in deep space. The light cruisers _Carneria_ and _Styx_, the medium cruiser _Cassiopeia_, and the missile cruiser _Dorian_ floated around her. Arrayed between them were one hundred vipers floating like oddly shaped moons around a planet.

"Its is now twenty hundred hours Colonial standard time, no sign of the targets, though they should be arriving within the next ten minutes" Commander Revin said into his audio journal. He closed it down and resumed staring at the DRADIS display across the room. The _Gehennia_'s bridge was slightly smaller than the bridge on a full battlestar, but still fairly large.

For the past three days Eyes had been watching this spot in deep space. Every eight hours a cluster of cylon ships would FTL in just a few kilometers ahead of the _Gehennia_'s alligator nose. They would sit for several minutes, presumably for FTL recharge after a long jump, and then jump back out. The _Gehennia_'s task force was going to intercept them, and had been waiting at the ambush sight for the past hour. "Major, have all ships sound off" Revin instructed the XO, major Serrick.

The four support ships, then the vipers sounded off.

Eight cylon ships appeared on DRADIS, which began beeping. Revin examined the DRADIS. There was one light basestar and seven freighters. Five were small cylinders just four hundred meters long. The largest were two huge ships a kilometer long, bigger than the light basestar itself. Revin gave his orders. "All ships engage. _Dorian_, target the freighters. Cruisers are to flank the convoy starboard, port, and atop. _Gehennia_, target light basestar with forward batteries, use high explosive bombardment rounds." He grunted and cleared his throat. Commanding a ship and a fleet was awkward.

The colonial ships raced forward. The cylons seemed to ignore them a few seconds, then began huddling behind the light basestar, with turned on its side to block the _Gehennia_ and began launching raiders. A light basestar was half the size of a full basestar, and each hull section had two prongs instead of three. On visual the ship now resembled a giant plus sign. "They're looking mighty surprised to see us" Serrick noted.

"Indeed, now fire at will." The _Gehennia_'s vibrated noticeably as her twin 1600-millimeter bow cannons fired. The high explosive rounds embedded at the center of the plus sign and detonated, crumpling the ship's hull but failing to rip it open. The basestar responded with six missiles and eighty raiders. The combined vipers and point defense systems met them halfway betweent he two ships. The _Gehennia_'s next salvo punched straight through the center of the furball. The blast sent cracks running up the light basestar's hull.

Revin was dismayed at the effect. AP rounds would low in supply until the _Vindication_ could get her ammunition production lines up, forcing him to use less effective high explosive rounds designed for orbital bombardment and killing fighters. _Gehennia_ shook as a missile made it through and detonated against her port flank. "Damage report?"

"Negative casualties, armor is cracking though" Lieutenant Willar reported.

"Good."

"Commander, _Dorian_ is firing" Serrick reported. Revin focused on the screen. Thirty green dots emerged from the missile cruiser's icon and raced across the small distance between the two fleets. The seven freighters winked out of existence. "Radio them good shooting, lets finish this basestar" he said, satisfaction creeping into his voice.

The next high ex salvo was too much for the light basestar's hull to handle. Two prongs disintegrated, leaving the back half of the ship trailing strands of hull plating. The next two salvos broke that apart. It took a few seconds for the last few raiders to be put down, but soon enough Revin was looking at a slowly expanding debris field.

"All targets are down" Serrick reported. He cupped his hand and raised an invisible glass. Revin and the four other officers returned the toast, something they had invented after a rowdy party one colonial day.

"Casualties?"

"Five vipers."

"Recall the remainder, lets clear out."

**Mirra:**

Commander Mirra Gorden sat at her desk in her quarters on the _Serpentia._ She had to herself a living room/kitchen, a large bedroom, a dining room, and a bathroom. The battlestar's previous commander had put up most of the decorations, with her only contribution being a small, ebony framed photograph of her husband and son.

Mirra stared at the screen of her-no, her old commander's personal computer. As she scrolled through the eight hundred articles currently in the database, her left hand went up to her opposite shoulder and clutched the three stars that marked her as a commander. They still felt heavy there thirty-seven days after Huxton had promoted her to commander from the rank of Lieutenant. She had been twentieth in line for command, a huge jump. Then again, president Travere had been eight-hundredth in line during his tenure as a minor government official a few years ago so she wasn't alone.

Mirra found the article detailing the fall of the colonies. A small ticker in the corner of the white page marked it as the largest article in the database. She scrolled through it. It seemed as though every civilian and soldier with access to a computer had contributed his or her own story about the fall. They had been organized by colony and whether they dealt with civilian or military. Mirra found the military section and started her own paragraph.

_The Battle of Virgon:_

_ By the second day of the cylon attack a quarter of the fleet was gone and five colonies had been devastated by nuclear bombardment. Admiral Nagala ordered every ship left to converge on Atlantia's BSG-1 in orbit of Virgon, because that was where he believed the cylons would strike next. _

_ That the cylons had a method to disable entire battlestars was known, but what choice was there? No one onboard any of the ninety battlestar groups present was going to abandon the colonies, we only had one choice: fight. Fortunately for us, just before we made contact with the enemy the communications ship _Greela_ picked up an FTL communication from the battlestar _Vindication_ warning about the Trojan horse in the CNP program. The fleet was midway through wiping it when we engaged the enemy. _

_ Thirty battlestars were shut down upon contact. Thirty more suffered malfunctions in their engines, weapons targeting systems, and FTL drives. The dark battlestars became shields against incoming railgun fire. The crippled ones either fought, or pointed themselves at the tightest cluster of basestars and charged. The first wave of basestars was weathered, though with forty-five battlestars and four hundred supports destroyed and all others suffering critical damage. It was the second wave of eighty that was fatal. _

_ The fleet scattered and died. The battlestars _Serpentia_ and _Triton_ fled into deep space at sublight speeds. However, the _Triton_ had suffered heavy engine damage and the _Serpentia_ had to slow down so she could maintain formation. When four basestars jumped in the _Triton_ turned to meet them and her commander ordered the _Serpentia_ away. Three days later, the _Serpentia_ would be found too._

She was about to start writing about the battle when she noticed a passage titled _The Rescue of the Serpentia_, then another: _The Raid on Aquaria_. A quick investigation revealed them to have been written by major Cage. Cage had written probably a tenth of the articles on the database personally, which she found very impressive.

A red glow in the corner of her screen told Mirra she had a new message. She opened it:

"Hi mommy." A warm feeling rushed over the commander.

She had found her little family rattled but alive onboard the Zephyr liner _Plato_ ten days ago. Actually, they had found her, having recognized the _Serpentia_ as 'her' ship.

"Hi Sammy" she replied. She squinted to see the small clock in the computer screen's upper left hand corner. Ten minutes until she had to leave him and relieve the second watch.

"How's being the commander? Do you still have to make coffee?" She snorted. A cup of homemade coffee was sitting by her left hand.

"Its scary being the commander, and yes, I still have to make coffee."

"Why?"

"Why what?" she checked the clock again.

"Both." She pictured the six-year old indignantly saying that, and laughed.

"Well, I still have to make coffee because I'm the best at it, and its scary to be commander because now everyone is looking up to me."

"But you get a battlestar." The remark was so innocent, so sweet. It reminded Mirra of home and peace.

"True." She had two minutes. "I have to go, love you sweetie, tell daddy I love him too." She blew a kiss at the screen

"I will, love you too mommy." She took one last longing look at the screen, then stood up and grabbed her coffee. The hallway outside was packed with crewmen coming off the second watch or taking the first, and some harried members of the battlestar's thousand-strong civilian population caught up in the rush. Walking the one hundred to the bridge took ten minutes.

"Commander on deck!" Lieutenant Morales announced. The four officers present stood up and saluted.

Mirra returned the gesture. "Second watch is relieved," she announced. Ten minutes later primary watch had the bridge. "Attention please" Mirra said, and rapped the desk with her knuckles. Eight pairs of eyes settled on her and waited expectantly. Mirra had been getting better at projecting authority when she spoke, mostly from copying Colonel Nessella's mannerisms. By now she could make a half-decent authority figure. She checked the schedule in front of her: "As you are aware, in four hours Colonel Nessella will be boarding to conduct an inspection of this ship. I want each of your departments to be running flawlessly, I want every deck scrubbed and every computer screen online or properly labeled otherwise. We are the most powerful colonial ship left in existence, I expect the good colonel's report to reflect a suitable level of competence, understood?"

They saluted, and then returned to their duties, leaving Mirra wondering if she'd come off with the right tone. "You sounded just fine," she muttered to herself.

The _Serpentia_ herself was in as good shape as she could get. Her skin had been patched up with parts manufactured by one of the two refinery ships, though it permanently bore a patchwork of scars and burn marks. The manufacturing plant was churning out vipers at a rate of three per day and midway through a partial reconfiguration to produce Python bombers. All weapons systems were combat proven to work fine and half their nuclear launchers were now capable of firing Atlatl missiles. The only place Mirra had any concern for was the port hangar pod, where the cylons had boarded from five and a half weeks ago. Various subsystems had taken battle damage and were prone to malfunction.

She checked over the battlestar's space wing again, looking for her largest problem. She found them at the bottom of the roster: thirty-six mostly intact heavy raiders sitting in storage. No one had touched them, and no one wanted to. A security team was supposedly being formed to examine them, but that had been low on everyone's priorities. And so the heavy raiders sat there, making her and CAG Bryton nervous.

"The trawler _Labrador_ is requesting permission to dock and begin water replenishment" Lieutenant Corifine announced.

"Tell them to go ahead" Mirra replied. Business was as usual for now.

**Huxton:**

Huxton hear a single gong ring out. He, Cage, and what he guessed were three hundred of his crew and two hundred civilians of all ages knelt on the cold deck of the _Vindication's _temple and began their morning prayers while two priests-an old Caprican combat chaplain and an even older Gemonese who had come aboard with the refugee fleet-led the service.

"I pray to you Ares, for the strength to keep fighting this war, and for my people so they have the strength to keep fighting. "I pray to you Apollo. Hear my prayers, heal my people, help me fix my battlestar" he whispered. The _Vindication_ was a mess. The maneuvering thrusters on the ort side would never be in top shape again and while they could repair her armor, several of her ribs had been cracked in the fuel explosion, leaving her port side vulnerable.

And she needed another hangar pod. The portside hangar pod had been a charred, unsalvageable wreck. Radin had amputated it, stripped it of anything of value, and then fed it into the two refinery ships. Its remains had been melted down and reformed as armor plating.

Twenty minutes later the combat chaplain raised his hands and said, "all rise." Huxton stood up in one smooth motion. The Gemonese took a step off his raised pedestal and smiled.

"The lords of Kobol hear your prayers, you are dismissed until the morrow." Huxton nodded.

"Do you think he heard us?" Slammer asked from his right shoulder. Huxton turned to face the overweight pilot. His face clouded as he pondered the question.

"I'd say so. There's only eighty-six voices left to listen to" he replied. Consoled, Slammer nodded and joined the main body of worshippers streaming towards the exit.

"Admiral I wish to speak with you," the Gemonese priest said, pointing a crooked index finger at Huxton from across the room. His ancient, heavily accented voice contained a surprising amount of authority. Huxton begrudgingly turned to face him as he limped forwards.

"Father Quinnel, now may not be a good time," he said.

The priest shook his head. "Now is always a good time for the issue I am dealing with."

"What issue is that?"

"You have seen the pictures and memorials scattered across the ship, have you not?"

"Yes, what about them?"

"I wish to consolidate all these separate tributes into one memorial hall in one of the observation decks, so we can mourn our fallen together." A memory leapt through its restraint's to the forefront of Huxton's mind: his birth family murdered during the blitz of Caprica forty-one years ago.

"The aft observatory is yours. I'll assign a couple of crewmen in case you need any manual assistance."

"Much appreciated, thank you admiral."

"You're welcome." Cage abruptly stepped in front of Huxton.

"Excuse me there Hux" he said. Then to the priest: "Father, Ein quel ayre sentalo mericar nervada?" he said.

"Tyle phei quell arnem" the priest replied, nodding. Confused, Huxton's eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

Cage had a wide grin. "Speaking old Gemonese." Huxton left them to that.

The medical bay was quiet. Most of the four hundred wounded from the raid on Aquaria had either died or been discharged. The forty or so left were asleep or sedated, covered in bandages from their burns. They had been engineers returning from the port flight pod when it went. Huxton found doctor Veris in his office with a shot of liquor clasped in his left hand.

"A bit early to get a buzz going, isn't it doc?" Huxton asked.

The doctor wrinkled his nose. "I'm just doing it for the depression. I still have my wife and kids on my mind" he replied softly.

"There's a memorial being opened on the aft observation deck, you can mourn them there all you want."

"Very good, Hux." Veris stood up, slipped, and righted himself.

"How's our prisoner doing?"

"We' haven't fed him in fourteen days. He's lost about thirty pounds, and is in constant pain from his gunshot wounds. Ten millimeter hollowpoints, nasty stuff." Huxton raised his eyebrows at hearing Nessella had used hollowpoints.

"How are the techies doing on our cylon test and adapting the lie detector?"

Veris' jaw tightened. "The cylon test is still a no-go. The lie detector, the technicians got it working, they say." He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a coil of wires. "We hook it up around his head. If he bullshits us it should be able to tell, don't ask me how because I still am having trouble understanding cylon physiology." He handed it across his desk to Huxton-and stumbled. Huxton lunged for him, but he slammed forearms first into it. Papers went flying. Huxton stared at him in disbelief. Then he grabbed him by the shoulders of his white coat and hauled him to his feet.

"Pull yourself together doctor, you've got six thousand people to look after."

"I am trying" Veris replied. He gingerly lowered himself to his seat. Huxton shook his head.

"I am ashamed of you doctor. There are eighty-six thousand people left in the human race and you are the man most important to their long-term health, and you are drunk on duty. You damn fool."

"Don't call me that Hux, maybe you didn't lose anyone you love in the nuclear blasts, but I did."

Huxton grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him, rattling his glasses off his face. He brought his face to within an inch of Veris' and his voice became a whisper, which to Veris, was scarier than if he had begun shouting. He spoke "listen to me doctor. I lost everything, just as you did. Just as every fracking crewmember on this ship did. Do you see the majority of them getting drunk on duty? I don't. Now, you are needed sober to keep them safe so we can keep this war going. Put your past behind you doctor, that's what I'm asking." Veris' eyes drooped away. Huxton shook him again. "All I'm asking is for you to-" Veris threw up across his desk. Huxton leapt back, then grabbed a stack of paper towels out of a bin in the far corner of the room. "Damnit man" he said.

Veris stumbled back from his ruined desk. "Frack you" he said. The insult bounced off Huxton as he began spreading the paper towels over the desk. Veris leaned forward and helped him. "I've got a couple cans of cleaner and disinfectant under the desk, I'll clean them up," he said.

"Alright then." Huxton stood back. Veris wiped his yellow-splattered face, then dove under his desk. He came up with two blue spray bottles several seconds later. "Are you okay there doctor?" Huxton asked.

"I feel like shit."

"Then let me help you." Together they wiped the desk off and threw the foul smelling refuse in the trash bin.

Veris took a deep breath and his eyes refocused slightly. "What were you asking me?" he asked.

"What?"

"Before, what were you asking of me?"

"Oh. I was saying that I know you've lost everything. I want you to give more than everything to this war, that's what I want everyone to give. The dead will lie easier with their killers slain at our feet." Veris grabbed the trashcan.

"You sound like a preacher" he said.

"Do I sound convincing?"

Veris considered it for a moment. "Yes, you do" he said. He left the office, and returned a few minutes later, the trash bin emptied.

"Thank you. Get sober, and stay that way doc." Huxton warily watched Veris' reaction. The doctor dropped into his chair and pulled out a bottle of liquor. It was half-empty.

"Take it," he said. Huxton slid it under his jacket. Veris sighed and leaned back. Huxton remembered what he'd originally had come for.

"Right then. Now, what I primarily came in here for was to ask you if the cylon was ready for interrogation."

"As ready as he will be. Doctor Parris and Sergeant Alenk are watching him. Veris handed him the lie detector. "Good luck Hux, make the fracker scream."

Forty civilian men and women waving pieces of metal rebar or their fists had bracketed the lab's entrance. They pressed the four marines guarding the door, demanding to be let inside. Huxton shoved through them. "He murdered my town, let me get a few swings at him!" One man shouted. Huxton ignored him. The marines checked his ID, then stepped aside and opened the door. There was a burst of running footsteps clanging on the deck behind him. A marine raised his rifle. The footsteps stopped as Huxton walked inside.

"Hello boys" he said to the doctor and soldier watching the emaciated imitation man strapped to the table.

"Admiral" Alenko saluted.

"Admiral" Parris stood up.

Huxton held up the lie detector. "I have a lie detector here, according to Veris it should work." Parris grabbed it. He unspooled the wires. One he plugged into his computer. Another was wrapped around the cylon's head, and a third around his chest.

"Do you really think this is going to work?" The cylon asked. He strained at the chains holding him down to no avail.

Huxton tapped him on the shoulder. "Lets find out. Tell me, what am I wearing?"

The cylon smiled. His skin was starting to tighten around his jaw. "A dress."

"Lying" Parris reported.

"A colonial fleet officer's uniform."

"Truth."

"Or you could be a cylon and you're bullshitting the admiral to help me in my efforts to destroy humanity" the cylon said. He laughed. "In fact, admiral, how do you know you aren't a cylon?" Huxton ignored him. He had a sidearm with the safety off in its holster and extensive practice at drawing it. That was all the security he would need.

"Second question: what is your name?" The cylon's eyes narrowed.

"My name is Simon Turio, I am a doctor for the Seris Research and Development Corporation."

Huxton remembered Seris. It had been one of the fastest growing biotechnological corporations in the colonies until a year ago when an industrial accident had destroyed its headquarters, classified beyond his level. "How did you get to work at Seris?"

"I was planted there and given a fake history eight years ago. Since your next question probably will be 'why Seris,' allow me to answer. Seris was working on a controllable microbe that would eat silicon, or so another cylon working for a rival corporation had heard. Think about it! They could have deployed it whenever we landed centurions on the surface, or maybe even straight into our ships with specialized railgun shells. It would have been a massacre!"

"So you used it on their headquarters" Huxton finished.

"Very good admiral, you're smart, certainly a lot more intelligent than the other humans I've killed. That must be while you're still alive." Huxton remained impassive through all this, though his nerves were screaming at him to pick a wrench off one of the other tables.

"Truth" Parris called out.

"Thank you, Simon. Next question; how many models of human cylon are there?"

Simon smirked. "Hundreds, admiral, hell, I never even saw all the models there were."

"He's lying" Parris replied.

"Thousands." Simon was smirking now.

"Again, lying" Parris said. Huxton grabbed a wrench. Simon's eyes widened as he raised it over his head. He swung it as hard as he could. Metal his bone, and Simon's left shin gave way with a crunch. He screamed shrilly and twisted in his chains. Huxton calmly waited for him to relax again.

"What the frak admiral, what happened to the threats first?" Simon shouted.

Huxton smirked now. "I am a man of action, not words. Now, how many models of cylon are there, and would you describe them for me?"

"Not telling" Simon said. "As one of the other models said, I'm not spoiling the fun." Huxton grabbed his broken shin and began to twist. Simon's face contorted. His skin began to shine with sweat. "Still no telling" he gasped out.

"Too bad. Alenko, is there anything hot in this room, like a hot plate?"

"Yeah, there's a couple of hot wands" Alenko said. He went off to get them.

Simon rose up as far as he could."I hate your species. We all do, that's why we exterminated you."

"Why? We gave you your freedom and ended the war, we left you alone" Huxton said.

"Your are sinners, you are unforgiveable. Though, when I was first inserted onto Aquaria, I had my doubts, do you want to hear a story about them?" Simon said.

"Go ahead" Huxton replied. Alenko returned. He held up one finger.

"Well eight years ago I was settling in to my nice apartment in the city of Mycra, when the woman who lives next door comes over and introduces herself. We chat a little. She's an intern at Seris, a grad school student getting her master's in organic chemistry. I help her with her work, she helps me get to know the place, and next thing I know I'm in love and deciding the propaganda machine back on the basestar was lying. So five years pass, and I'm watching Seris getting close to its silicon microbe, slowly deciding that I shouldn't do anything about it. This girl and I are engaged and sharing a penthouse because by helping each other out we secured our own promotions. And then, do you know what happens on my birthday?"

"She dies" Huxton said.

Simon's body was tensed with rage now. "Exactly. Two drunken fracks run her down going through a red light, they never stop, they just keep driving. And my fiancé is lying broken in the middle of the street with rain pouring down on her. She's dead before I get there. The cops can do nothing because those kids are related to the CEO of Aquaria industries, the largest shipbuilding company in this half of the binary system. So you know what? Humanity is a cruel and heartless species that got everything it deserved." He glared at Huxton.

"He's telling the truth" Parris said.

Huxton felt nothing but contempt for the machine, contempt and irritation at his arrogance. "You speak in past tense, we're still here."

"Not for long."

"Longer than your species will be. Now, storytime is over, the other cylon models please?"

Simon shook his head. Huxton beckoned to Alenko.

Four hours later his radio squawked. "Nessella to Huxton, are you there?"

Huxton stepped to the back of the room and picked up his radio. "I'm here Amy, what's up."

"I have an inspection of the _Serpentia_. Normally that would leave Cage with the conn, but I'd rather let him spend some time with that priest, setting up the memorial. Besides, you could use a break from interrogating the toaster, maybe let me take a shot at it."

Huxton sighed. "I could, this thing isn't giving us anything. Okay, I'm on my way up." He shut it down and turned to Alenko and Parris. "I'm heading back to the bridge. Session is concluded for now. Make sure he doesn't sleep."

He left the room with a renewed headache.


	16. E4 part 2

**Mirra:**

When Nessella stepped out of her Raptor Mirra had to stop herself from saluting. She hid her embarrassment. Nessella saluted, then she returned it. "Colonel, welcome aboard" she said. Nessella strutted forwards, and they shook hands.

"Thank you commander. How is your family?"

Mirra kept her face from brightening too much. "Alive, well, and cheering for me."

"That's good to hear. How's your girl?"

Mirra looked around at the Raptor disembarkation room. The floor had several rectangular scratches from the elevator and there were streaks of grime in the corners of the ceiling, but apart from that it was still shining steel plate and rows of raptors. "She's a bit dirty on the surface, but damn strong underneath."

Nessella nodded. "I like to hear that, allow me to verify."

"Right." Mirra had come up with a plan. "We'll start on the upper flight deck and work our way in to the bridge. Follow me please."

The upper flight deck had been pressurized, and vipers sat in their moorings surrounded by tech crews a few saluted as they walked by, but Mirra was glad to see that most remained occupied. "Total space wing is currently one hundred and fourteen vipers, and growing. We're sitting at one hundred and fifty pilots at the moment, so eventually there's only going to be extra birds."

Nessella's eyes went over every viper they passed. "That will be fine, spares are always welcome, and Merle's training program should be catching up." Mirra watched Nessella in action. She moved with a strut and an air of confidence that Mirra struggled to generate. Her eyes moved faster than Mirra's could track as she looked over everything.

"Deck chief Markon had to jury rig a few ammo feeds and fuel pumps, but they are functional" Mirra added.

Nessella nodded. "I trust he wasn't the original deck chief?"

"No, chief Ingrams was killed by the cylon boarding party."

"Then I'm glad to see your chosen successor is doing well. How is discipline, while we're at it?" Mirra turned them around after the tenth viper. They still had much of the ship to see.

Mirra had had one condition one drill per day since the raid on Aquaria. The crew's reaction time had gotten faster with each one. "The crew has grown in to the current situation very well. They can't quite match the efficiency I've seen aboard the _Vinny_, but I look forwards to changing that within a month." Nessella's eyes drifted over to her. She raised her eyebrows.

Both of them began grinning, it was impossible to stop. "I wish you the best of luck, you're not the only crew improving."

That took Mirra aback. "The _Vindication_ was fourth in the fleet in readiness speed, and if Cross' bragging is to believe your current time would make you first, how do you do better?" Nessella gave half a chuckle at her incredulity.

"Take that up with the admiral" she said simply. Then: "How are you holding up by the way?" Mirra hesitated from both he change of direction and her inhibition about letting go in an official setting. Then she saw something in Nessella's body language: the transition from fleet officer to sympathetic fellow human being; leaning in a little more, her arms open and palms out, her smile more worried and less officially neat, her eyes a bit deeper. "Go ahead commander."

Mirra waited five seconds until they entered the passage to the battlestar's main hull before speaking. "Quite frankly I am scared shitless" she said. "So is my command crew, we're all feeling the pressure. Huxton gave me a bit of a pep talk just before Aquaria, I guess he told you"-Nessella was nodding knowingly-"But hell, I need to be honest." They passed a side room whose floor had been replaced by dirt and rows of small green shoots.

"Go ahead, like I said. No point in us excusing our feelings, nobody cares enough to worry over it." Nessella put a hand on her shoulder.

Mirra took a breath. They stopped outside the port engineering. "I was supposed to be onboard the girl for two years and leave ready to be commissioned as a captain, standard stepping stone position, so were about three other guys on the command crew. Instead the world ended and I wound up being put in charge. And we're the most powerful ship in the fleet to boot, so its like she's sitting on my shoulders." She expected Nessella to be irritated. She wasn't, just sympathetic.

"Though I disagree with you in regards to the _Serpentia_ being the most powerful ship in the fleet, I feel you, entirely. This is your trial by fire, embrace it and remember that you are all that stands between us and destruction, for we cannot stand without you."

Mirra put a hand on top of Nessella's. The words hit something inside her. She straightened her back a little more and looked around at the battlestar. "I hear you. Where did you get the line from?"

"Cage pulled it from a copy of the scriptures, told it to me and Huxtona week ago. I'm glad to see it works." Mirra nodded. She was still daunted, but that line had certainly been inspiring.

"Thank you. Lets continue on then."

"Lets." Mirra opened the door for the engineering and they stepped inside.

"Lieutenant Beorn, inspection" she said to the engineer on watch.

Two hours later they reached the bridge. The glass doors that made up one wall swung open for them. Nessella stepped inside and looked around. The two officers present were good enough not to look up when she looked over their shoulders. "Well organized and smoothly run, I like. One gripe though: which midget designed this thing?" Nessella asked, looking around with distaste. Captain Lirallis and Colonel Meironara were confused.

"Sorry colonel?"

"Who designed it? There's hardly any room."

"Goes with having a smaller crew. I haven't seen the bridge on the Valkyrie class', how big is it?"

Nessella held out her hands. "Twice the size easily."

Mirra snapped off a reply. "Well I suppose we should throw the next officer's party at your place then." The bridge crew burst out laughing. Nessella smiled.

"We could, but this is Huxton we're talking about here, bridge parties are a breach of security, someone could spill a drink on something or hit a button that fires the primary railguns, or does some other bad thing." Mirra smirked.

"I guess we'll have to make it for upper officers, majors and above only, then."

Lirallis , a recent Picon academy graduate looked up. "Hey" she said.

"Sorry captain" Mirra raised her eyebrows to indicate sarcasm. Lirallis rolled her eyes.

Mirra just heard her mutter "upper command officers."

"And when you're a major, you'll get to be a hard-ass too" the grey-haired Meironara supplied gruffly.

Mirra decided they'd strayed for long enough. "Back to work. Nessella, I suppose you'll want to look at our computer systems?"

"Of course." Mirra accessed her computer. Nessella bent over and began sifting through it. "What is the status of your network?"

As the only person left alive with security clearance, Mirra had personally gone through the network. "Network is operational, but in a limited capacity. There are multiple firewalls between each computer, the major systems require manual clearance to exchange data, and the higher connectivity functions are disabled" she recited.

"Higher connectivity?"

"You cannot control any part of the ship from any other part" Mirra explained.

"Same system we're running on." Nessella stepped back. She smiled at Mirra. "Well commander, I suppose that's everything."

Mirra confirmed "we're done." She grimly waited for the final evaluation, out of the corners of her eyes she saw her officers do the same.

"You seem to have stepped up to the plate commander. All systems are good to my eye, which means that they are great. You and your crew are still a bit green, but I doubt that you'll be that way for much longer. This is a well-run ship, and I'm glad to have seen her. I take my leave." She saluted. Mirra returned it.

"Thank you Nessella." Mirra watched her go. As soon as her red bun was out of sight, Lirallis and Meironara began clapping. Mirra rounded on them, her cheeks prickling and turning red. "Why thank you, that went well" she said.

**Nessella:**

Nessella radioed Huxton from her raptor. "Nessella to Hux, how goes it?"

"Its quiet here. I've given up on the cylon for now, and Cage is handling some supply concerns with vice president Wynne. How was the inspection?"

"Very good, Mirra is shaping up very nicely, a couple of insecurities but I have faith. The ship is in good shape, and her crew is doing well. My detailed report will be up in the morning."

"Good, I have one question though; does the bridge really have an entire wall of mechanical glass doors?"

Nessella covered the mic and snickered. "Yes, and more: there's only one entrance, if you get caught in there.."

"You are dead" Huxton finished. "I wish I could punch whoever designed that bridge, incompetent fool," he went on for several seconds. "Oh, and by the way, you can take this shift off."

Nessella felt the muscles in her back muscles strain as she leaned forward to speak. She fought the temptation. "Negative Hux. Forward me your report on the cylon, I'll examine him." The _Largos_ loomed up ahead; a light cruiser huddled up against its flank. She would disembark in the mobile drydock's hangar bay and walk to the _Vindication_.

"Are you sure about that Amy?"

"Why not?"

"Right, my report will be on your computer."

Nessella studied the report on the way from her quarters to the medbay. She walked through the beds and past Veris, who was instructing a pair of recruits on how to clamp an artery with a dummy on a stretcher.

She entered the lab. Corporal Belsinki had replaced Alenko, but Parris was still overseeing the prisoner. The cylon spoke up in a hoarse voice. "That you admiral?" Nessella bent over him and examined his gaunt face. There were two long slashes running from his forehead down his left cheek. He seemed confused. "Oh, not you admiral. Hello colonel, are you going to be the good cop?" Anger flared inside her at those words. It took all the self-control she could muster to keep her clenched fists from lashing out.

"So, I was told you aren't cooperating, do you feel pain?" she asked.

Simon groaned. "Of course I do, did your doctor not detect my elevated blood pressure, and did his ears not hear my screaming?"

"Just making sure." Nessella pulled up a chair and sat down beside him. "Since you experience human emotions, I'd assume you'd fear the pain, why not make it stop?" Simon strained at his chains, to no avail.

He glared at her. "After what you're race has done, denying you whatever I know is completely worth the agony." Nessella pounced on the statement.

"You were starting to disbelieve that we were evil, until your fiancé died. Then, it says here you decided all humans were evil."

"You are, you are all violent, corrupt, sinful creatures. My girl died in the rain, and there was nothing I could do, I'm not going through the story again" his face registered grief for the briefest instant. It was enough to convince Nessella her plan had a chance of success. She closed her eyes, and tried to imagine a young woman with light brown hair and cream-colored skin lying broken in the road her eyes wide open in surprise. Rain poured around her, flooding the street. Simon appeared beside her, dropped to his knees, and began sobbing. A car faded into the distance.

She formulated a question. "What happened after you went to her side?"

Simon's eyes widened. It took a moment for him to process her words. His mouth opened and shut several times. "A couple other people ran over, one of them called the police, what does it mean to you?"

"What about those people, who were concerned for your girl enough to run out into the pouring rain, do you think they were evil? What about the policemen you spoke to, what did they do?"

Simon's eyes clenched shut as he struggled to remember. He winced as the gash on his face widened. "Most of them were angry for me, the detective on duty put his arm on my shoulder and said how sorry he was. Then he took a couple of officers, a description from me, and went off to find the car. They all almost lost their jobs for putting that brat in cuffs."

Nessella pressed on. "What about them, do you think they are evil for that? They're more than likely all dead now, for doing something like that, did they deserve to die?"

Simon countered. "A couple of little people, but the evil one is in charge, they don't matter in the grand scheme."

Nessella fixed her gaze on his eyes. "But he is only one human, alone in the dark against many. For every criminal there are a hundred good citizens. Think about it for a minute."

"What about the admiral?" Simon smirked, probably thinking she had no defense.

"The admiral is doing what he thinks is best for the survival of his species. He loves the human race enough that he will go to this extreme to save it. He will die for them if the time comes why don't you prove he doesn't need to go to that level? You decided humanity was worth keeping once. She remained fixated on him, waiting for his response. His eyes clouded, different emotions passed through his face. He sighed.

"Give me a minute to think."

"One minute." Nessella watched the second hand on her watch swing around. Fifty-seven seconds later Simon raised his head as far up as he could. Her heartbeat accelerated with anticipation.

"I have one condition on talking to you. There is a planet I heard about when I was searching through our database, just before leaving on my assignment. It is supposed to be where the human cylon was first conceived. The coordinates if I recall correctly are one, one, eight, two, four five three one, zero, zero, one , zero." He paused. "I have no idea what is there, but I've always wanted to be there. If you go, and bring me back a recording of whatever you find, I'll tell you everything I know."

"Is that the best deal?"

He nodded, and then his body went limp. Nessella glanced at Parris. "He's telling the truth" he said.

Nessella didn't need to hear anything else. "Good. Give him some anesthesia, patch up his wounds, and have a meal sent down from mess." "Thank you Simon" she said, and stood up.

She returned to the bridge flushed with elation. "Hux, I think I got us a way in" she said. Huxto was reclining in his chair, a flask of liquor sitting open and a third empty on his desk next to his crossed feet. He looked up, surprised.

"Really now?" She played him a recording of her interrogation. "Well, I suppose that's the best we'll get, thank you very much Amy, damn you're good."

She giggled nervously. "Thank you admiral."

"Welcome." He sat up, and turned to Marlay, who was showing something to one her newly minted warrant officers, Aelia Wrenner. "Captain, I need you to send a message the _Apollo_, I have a set of coordinates for them to scout out." Marlay looked up, and saluted

Marlay spoke "Yes Admiral, what are they?" Huxton reeled them off.

"Got it." She sent them.

The Apollo was flying in formation just off the bow of the _Gehennia_. The scarred faststar turned to port and accelerated out. A kilometer from the fleet it vanished in a nimbus of blue light. Huxton and Nessella conversed for thirty or so minutes, until it jumped back in and hailed the _Vindication_. "Marlay, put it on speaker" Huxton instructed.

"_Vndication-_actual, this is _Apollo_. The coordinates took us to a star system about forty light years inside of cylon space. We are uploading our scan data of the system. There were no cylon forces in-system, though we picked up a faint radio signal from the only rock planet. We believe it's a first cylon war era cylon distress call."

A map of the system replaced the external visual feed, and data scrolled across Huxton's computer. "Thank you _Apollo_" Huxton said, then he and Nessella examined the data.

It was a small star system. There were three medium sized gas giants and a snowball planet orbiting a yellow sun. There was some questionable debris in orbit of the planet, labeled as basestar wreckage. "What do you think?" Huxton asked after a few minutes.

"It looks relatively safe to me," Nessella admitted. "As safe as anything in cylon space is, anyhow." Her words felt hollow even to her. Huxtongave her a wide-eyed, deadpan stare that reflected his incredulity. "Okay, that's not safe, still, at least there's no basestars."

Huxton shook his head. "I'd feel better if there were basestars. I'm sending the _Apollo _back in for a better look."

**Huxton:**

With the _Apollo_ away, Huxton took the intercom. "Sergeant Alenko to the bridge, sergeant Alenko to the bridge." Ten minutes later, Alenko stepped inside. He was wearing a black combat vest and shorts, a fist shaped bruise was forming on his left cheek. "What did you do?"

He put a hand ver the bruise. His brown eyes narrowed in confusion for an instant. "Oh, this? I was putting a couple guys through hand to hand training."

Huxton raised his eyebrows. "No protection gear?"

"Went up in the blast, we requested some from _Serpentia_ but their quartermaster has his grubby hands on it."

"I'll get someone on it. In the meantime, I have an assignment for you." He gestured to the map of Simon's star system. Alenko examined it. "Looks like a lifeless dud, what are you trying to blow up?"

Huxton smiled. "Nothing yet. According to our prisoner, there's some kind of cylon research facility on its surface." He tapped the red blip marking the location of the radio beacon in the planet's northern hemisphere. "If we can get him data on whatever's down there he'll tell us everything he knows. Plus whatever we find could help us. BSG-2 is taking the mission. I need you to be my liason on this. Take your squad and accompany their marines to the surface."

Alenko saluted. "Yes sir. When are we leaving?"

"Now." Alenko stopped for a moment, and then he saluted one more time and sprinted out, feet pounding the floor.

**Mirra:**

The data from the _Apollo_'s latest scan had revealed no cylon ships in the mysterious star system. A high altitude flyby of the radio site had been obstructed by a blizzard.

Mirra fingered her computer absentmindedly. Her CAG had just reorted that the marines from the _Vindication_ had arrived in the starboard flightpod. "Everything ready?" she asked.

"We're green across the board" Meironara said. The four officers in the bridge look on to her for instructions.

Mirra ignored the tingling in her stomach. "BSG 2, prepare to jump." The _Serpentia_ rose out of the fleet on her maneuvering thrusters. Two medium cruisers, three light cruisers, and the _Apollo_ rose with her. They appeared as a circle of green lights on the DRADIS. "Coordinates entered?"

Lirallis checked the FTL computer. "Coordinates entered."

"Jump." She turned the key. Mirra felt a small burst of static electricity. The squadron vanished in a series of flashes of blue light. Eight seconds later they emerged seventy light years away. DRADIS activated and began scanning. The CAP launched a second later. "Colonel, where are we?" Mirra demanded.

Meironara checked the navigation computer. "We are fifteen thousand kilometers above the ice planet. All ships are here and no other ships are in sight." He squinted at something on the screen. "I'm getting some weird DRADIS signals from low orbit of the planet. There are two large identical objects a couple thousand miles apart. Whatever they are they're artificial but unlike any ship or station on record." Mirra felt everyone in the room tense with her.

"Dispatch a viper to check the nearest object out. Put his gun camera on visual." The visual screen switched from a white ball of ice to the hull of the _Serpentia_. Then it swerved abruptly and oriented with the planet a little to the right. "Put the pilot on speaker."

"This is Hangman, I am en route to the object," a gravelly female voice said. Mirra quickly remembered the pilot as part of Corsair squadron, their elite viper squadron.

The view quickly closed, until they were staring at a grey, cigar shaped object drifting against a mottled white background. "What the hell is that?" Major Camden demanded in a stuffy Virgonian accent.

"It's a hangar pod," Hangman said. "Doing a close flyby now." The viper made a pass along its flank. Mirra saw inside the flight deck, with outdated vipers still chained down to it. She saw cracked armor and several craters. Then the nameplate rushed past. Mirra had just enough time to read the name off of it: _Columbia_. "Did you see that?" Hangman asked.

Mirra grabbed a radio. "Yes we did, holy frack. Return to the barn." Then to the battlegroup: "BSG two, we have just locatd the remains of what appears to be the battlestar _Columbia_. Apollo is to return to the fleet and notify the admiral, all other ships are to advance and take up a hexagonal defense formation three hundred klicks above the beacon. Marine raptors are going to deploy as soon as geosynchronous orbit is achieved." The battlegroup surged ahead.


	17. E4 Part 3

**Mirra:**

The ships of BSG-2's maneuvering thrusters held in in geosynchronous orbit three hundred kilometers above a cylon radio beacon. Their radar and thermal sensors hadn't detected any cylon activity, but tensions in their crews were running high on account of their prescence in cylon space, which was uncharted territory. The very noticeable prescene of the _Columbia_'s corpse hard started shipwide rumors of centurion stealth craft and ghosts. Mirra for her part was keeping the squadrion on condition one until they returned to the minimally better safety of the fleet.

"Marine Raptors are away, ETA to the surface is ten minutes," Meironara reported.

Mirra watched the five green dots drop into the planet's atmosphere "Do their jump drives have the rendezvous coordinates entered?" she asked. If the group was attacked the Raptor pilots had been instructed to jump straight to their fallback position half a light year beyond the system's rim.

"They have been entered and double checked, CAG thinks they're good."

Mirra nodded and returned her attention to the DRADIS-just in time to see two green dots appear where her battlegroup had initially jumped in. A blue civillain appeared between them a moment later. Mirra instantly assumed they were hostile. "Arm main weapons grid, identify those ships!"

"Sir, it's the _Apollo_, the _Ceres_, and one of the flattops, the _Hephesteus_" Meironara reported.

That was a surprise "Hail the _Apollo_, what the frack are they doing with a civvie out here?"

The dot labeled as the _Apollo_ broke away from the other two and sped to her battlegroup. The medium cruiser and the repair ship altered their heading away from the planet and towards the nearest of the hangar pods. "Commander, they are here for the _Columbia,_ Huxton says the _Vinny_ could use the hangar pods" Lirallis reported.

Meironara scrunched his brow up in thought at the idea. "That wouldn't work, there's too much mass difference between a Valkyrie flight pod an a Columbia one. She wouldn't fly in a straight line."

Lirallis shook her head vigorously, her straight brown hair swishing across her face. "With enough compensation thrust they could keep her straight. Besides, she'd be even more lopsided if Huxton tried to fly her with only one pod." Merinoara nodded in concession. Mirra smiled with pride at her handpicked officer.

"Good thinking captain." The _Hephasteus_ and the hangar pod's blue dot merged into one. The repair ship's crew secured the pod to its deck with magnetic clamps, and then started on towards the second pod. Mirra sent the light cruiser _Harlequin_ and medium cruiser _Tauron Pride_ cruising off to patrol halfway between the two fleets as a kind of backup in case the civvie was attacked first. She remained wary of attack.

**Alenko:**

The ride through the upper atmosphere was particularly rough. Alenko wouldn't have noticed if, next to him, private Venko hadn't grabbed his seat for support. Alenko began checking the bolt of his assault rifle to see if it he had insulated it properly. Venk prodded him. He glanced up at the younger man, who spoke when he realized he had his attention. "What do you think is down there?"

Alenko shrugged. The briefing had just said expect high winds, sub zero temperatures, and cylons. "No fracking clue. We could be dealing with a fortress of some kind, or it could just be a bailed out centurion for all we know." He slid the bolt back into place. Satisfied with the rifles' condition, he returned it to the sling at his side.

"What happens if we find a fortress of some kind?" Venko continued earnestly.

"We radio it back to the fleet, and wait for the reinforcements." He hoped Venko would stop talking now. It was his first deployment since his stint in the brig and embarrassing return to his chastised squad, and his nerves were beginning to get to him.

No luck. "What if the cylons ambush us at the landing site?" Alenko's fists clenched as his irritation became too much to bear in silence.

"Gods Venko, keep it quiet and wait until we hit the ground! We don't know what's down there apart from a radio and a lot of ice! That's all we know, and until that changes keep your thoughts to yourself." He jabbed his gloved finger within an inch of Venko's face for extra emphasis. The marine recoiled as far as he could.

"Roger, sarge" he whispered, defeated.

Corporal Belsinki opened his mouth to say something. Alenko pointed at him. "Don't, mind on what you're going to do as soon as we hit the ground." Belsinki nodded and kept silent. The other five members of Alenko's squad did likewise. Alenko ignored the uneasy mood that had descended in the Raptor's passenger captain. That would vanish as soon as they eagressed and found out exactly what the cylons were up to.

Two minutes later the red light above the hatch turned green. Alenko unstrapped and stood up. "Thirty seonds until we touch down, grab your gear and get ready to go!" he shouted, a tradition carried over from the much larger dropships he'd been deployed in before transferring from a dedicated marine unit to the _Vindication_'s security force. There was a flurry of movement and black Kevlar as they checked everything over. Kit bag, body armor, helmet, electronics, gear, weapon. The Raptor noticeably slowed and began to vibrate as its braking thrusters fired. Alenko glanced out the window. They had leveled off and were flying low over a windswept ice field.

Then the ground fell away into a yawning crater that engulfed their little task force. He heard at least one marine gasp in awe. Something besides it sheer scale caught his eye though. The dimensions of the depression were off. He stood up as far as he could with his harness on and craned his neck to peer out the far window. What he saw sent a nervous tingle down his spine. He pointed down. "This is artificial," he pronounced.

"How do you know?" private Mathins asked.

"Its round. Geography doesn't work that way, right?" Alenko said.

"I guess not," Mathins answered. The news brought consternation to the squad. The raptor's pilot relayed it to the other raptors.

Belsinki tried to be hopeful. "At least we know this isn't a wild goose chase, that could be a stripmine or something." His optimism withered and died at the other's glares.

The Raptor came to a halt less than a hundred meters from the edge fo the crater and settled into a smooth landing. The bird thudded as it hit ice. Alenko flicked off his rifle's safety catch with his thumb. "Mathins, get the door" he ordered. He and Venko aimed their rifles down the hatch as it slid open. An empty white landscape and frigid air greeted them.

They poured out and fanned out around the raptor. At either end of the semicircle, Mathins and Belsinki linked up with the neighboring squad. Within seconds There was a perimeter formed. Alenko could very easily see his breath before him, crystalizing in the cold and forming a layer of ice particles on his collar and rifle receiver that he would need to wipe every few minutes lest it freeze over. He looked around. He wiped it, then scanned the horizon for movement. There was nothing. Whatever life this snowball had was frozen at the bacterial level beneath a mile of ice. "Testing, testing one two three, squad leaders report in" Captain Pask's voice filtered over Alenko's earpiece.

"Squad one here" Sergeant Bates said.

"Squad two" Lieutenant Cooper said.

"Squad three deployed" Sergeant Lawrence said.

Alenko keyed his radio. "Squad four here." Surprisingly enough he hadn't felt like an outsider upon being introduced to the rest of the _Serpentia_'s marine force. To be fair, he currently felt half like an outsider on his own ship, so he couldn't judge.

"Good." Pask said. "Squad three will guard the landing zone. Squad one will investigate the crater. Squads two and four will check out the radio beacon, move out." Pask would be staying at his post in the fifth raptor, watching the action.

"Squad assemble on me!" Alenko shouted. When the marines had huddled around him he checked corporal Ingram's computer screen. They were forty meters north of the radio beacon. "Lets go, don't want to keep the serpents waiting!" he said. The wind began to pick up as they walked, flinging ice particles against his goggles. His black mask prevented them from filleting his skin, but he could feel their steady drumroll against his face. By the time they reached squad two and the beacon sight it had become almost unbearable.

Squad two was already at the site when he arrived. Two marines were on their knees hacking at the ice with pickaxes while the rest stood guard. "What have we got here?" Alenko asked.

"Nothing, whatever it is its buried deep." Cooper explained, pointing at the small hole they had already created in the thick white crust.

Alenko considered the information for a moment. "The Columbia was lost in operation Razor Talon forty years ago, if this beacon is that old then it makes sense it would be beneath the surface."

Cooper nodded. "If its too deep though we have a problem" she said. Alenko felt something move under his feet. He looked down. Between his black boots a crack in the ice had formed.

"The ice is going beneath me, I don't think its stable. He took a step back. Cooper's eyes widened and she quickly waved the marines away and bounded away. Another , wider crack formed where she had been standing. "I think this might be more than a-" Then there was a defeaning _crack_ and she vanished in a rush of blackness. Alenko felt himself falling for a gut-wrenching moment. Then his feet flared with pain as they hit something hard. He crumpled like a ragdoll and lay as his vision reoriented.

He was staring up at a halo of light some distance overhead. Clumps of snow and ice were raining down around him. Alenko sat up. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, as every bone in his body seemed to shift and burst into pain. He looked back up at the halo, and had a terrifying thought: was he dead?"

"Sarge, can you hear me!" Belsinki's distinctive voic epracitically screamed over the radio.

"I'm alive," Alenko gasped. Then his joy at that fact exploded. "I'm fracking alive!" he yelled.

"Good, stay put, we're sending a medvac down" Cooper broke in. Though his legs were a mass of pain Alenko recoiled at the idea of being carted off on a stretcher, and presumably flown back to the orbiting battlestar. He got to his knees, and grabbed his knees as they screamed.

"Hold the medvac, I think I'm alright!" he replied. "Can you see me?" He looked back up at the hole. A black circle eclipsed it.

"I see you, don't move."

"Understood!" He looked around, but the inky darkness crushed in around the small ray of light he knelt in. He checked his shoulder for his rifle. Somehow it was nowhere to be found, so he drew his pistol in his left hand and his flashlight in his right.

There was a deafening crack above him, and a meter of ice shattered against the ground, just missing his right shoulder. "We can't get anyone down there, the ground isn't stable" Cooper said. Her voice remained calm and emotionless.

The darkness seemed to be inching closer to Alenko. His hair stood on end. "Got it. I'll have a look from here." He turned on the flashlight, illuminating a circle of pavement. He played it back until it hit a distant wall, then up until it reached the ceiling almost twenty feet overhead. He brought it back down and across the ground. It passed over several ice coated crates and structural beams. "Lieutenant, this seems to be a warehouse."

"Got it. Hang on, we're going to try dropping a fire team in from an airborne raptor."

"Good luck." Alenko's flashlight beam caught a frozen metal hand. He snapped his pistol up and aimed at it. His beam moved up a metal wrist, to a very familiar metal torso. "Lieutenant, I found the source of the beacon." His flashlight beam found the centurion's head. It lay almost perpendicaular to its body, its visor cracked and glazed over with ice. A bent crowbar lay beside it.

"What is it?"

"Centurion, first war model. Looks like someone bashed it over the head, I suggest you hurry up in case there are some live ones down here" He decided kneeling was not a good way to face whatever else was waiting just out side his field of vision. He pushed down on his left leg and rose slowly. His ankles trembled and cried out, but held.

"Only one?"

He swept the flashlight beam around. "That I see anyways. Hang on!" his beam found an oddly familiar looking tangle of nylon, flattened by ice and age. It was grey, and clearly had the colonial seal upon it. A harnss was crushed halfway beneath it. "There's a bailout parachute near the centurion, probably from whoever took its head off."

Five minutes later he heard the muffled roar of a raptor's engines and three ropes dropped in beside him. He stepped out of the way as Belsinki, Cooper, and Ingrams slid down, boots smacking against the ground. "Welcome inside" he said dryly. Cooper nodded.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look shaken" she said. He nodded and grimaced. "Anything else here?"

He shook his head. "One dead centurion, a parachute, and a door behind them. Nothing else. Any of you seen my rifle for that matter?"

"It was on the edge of the hole you made entering, not worth making a grab for," Belsinki said.

"Well don't I feel undergunned."

"You have explosive bullets" Belsinki pointed out.

Alenko tapped his assault rifle. "So do you." Belsinki's fat lips only made his smirk more annoying. Cooper waved them after her before he could tell him to wipe it off his face.

Their flashlight beams swept the room as they crept towards the metal corpse. Ingrams bent down and examined it. "This centurion's kneck appears to have been snapped via blunt trauma. Give me a minute to try to pull its memories." He clamped a wire to one of the frozen metal strands trailing from the head. After a minute of fiddling with his computer and the connection he gave up. "Too mch circuit degradation."

"Lieutenant, what's your status?" Captain Pask said.

Cooper's eyes went to their entrance. "Alive and alone, we are heading deeper into the complex."

"Right, stay frosty."

She waved them on. "Belsinki on point."

Belsinki took the lead. He reached the door and paused. "Smells like something died in there" he said. Then he stepped through. Alenko followed him. He swung the flashlight in a wide beam around the room, until it settled on a cage with something coated in red and white ice huddled inside. He took a step towards it, feeling like something menacing was waiting for his eyes inside. He reached the thing and examined a bulge at the head of it. His eyes met the empty sockets of a human skull.

"Oh frack!" his voice penetrated the silence. He leapt back as his stomach wretched. He gagged, then swallowed hard.

He jumped as Cooper brushed past him. "What?" she saw it. "Holy shit

"Lieutenant, you might want to see this"Belsinki said from across the room. His fat face was white. Alenko had to force himself to looke over. The corporal was staring at a human corpse on an operating table. A number of heavily rusted knives and power tools lay at its head.

"Over there!" Ingrams was pointing to a shriveled human arm dangling from a metal frame. Simon had said this was where the first humanoid cylons had been created. Now they knew how it had been done.

Cooper grabbed her radio."Captain, this is a lab, I have multiple corpses and surgical instruments."

"Understood, hold position until we can get another fire team down there." They spent three minutes looking at what turned out to be half a dozen bodies in varying states of decay. Alenko examined the skeleton. His thoughts wandered to wondering whom it had been, cowering in there waiting for the cylons to come for them. They had been helpless, and forgotten until now. His hands began to tremble as rage boiled up inside him.

Venko and three marines from Cooper's squad rappelled inside the warehouse and burst into the lab. Belsinki's face regained some of its color with the reinforcements.

Cooper pointed to a decaying computer hard drive next to the arm. "Ingrams, see what you can get off of that. Corporal Mctane and private Venko stay with him. The rest of you are with me, lets see how deep this place is. Alenko followed her to the far end of the room. The door had been secured shut at one point by a heavy lock. The lock was now hanging onto the wall by a few shreds of rusted metal, a metal bar having been rammed into the center of it. Belsinki kicked it. The lock shattered and the door swung open with a squal of old hinges. Alenko nodded to Belsinki, and they charged inside. The others followed shortly after.

The first thing Alenko illuminated was a rack of four bunks built one on top of the other into the wall. The squad fanned out inside. A few seconds of exploration revealed that there were over sixty bunks in racks of five along the long wall. Alenko moved his light along the far wall. Something vaguely human appeared in the beam.

"Contact!" he said, and aimed at it.

"Advance with caution" Cooper said. Alenko ttok three steps forward, enough to see what he was dealing with. It was a human body dangling from the ceiling. His stomach churned.

"Shit, just another corpse." Then he saw another body a few feet away, and another. "There's more dead in here" he announced. "Going in to investigate." A quick look told him whoever it was was long dead. The cold and presumeable lack of bacteria had mummified the body, giving it reddened features and shriveled limbs. It still only took him a second to discern it was a small woman wearing a red vest and jeans. The thing holding her up turned out to be a a woolen scarf faded enough that it took him a second to discern the blue and white plaid pattern-and the brown hairs still clinging to it.

The cylons wouldn't have killed someone that way, especially with their lab functional. She'd committed suicide, to avoid whatever had been suggested by the muffled screaming filtering through the door and whatever blurry movement she saw in its window.

"There's more bodies here, I count ten" Cooper reported.

"Check what's holding them up, I think these are suicides."

"Looks like it." Her eyes remained emotionless behind their protective covering in an impressive display of professionalism. Alenko however only grew angrier with each corpse he passed. Eight of the bodies were individual humans in civilian clothes., each probably with their own story to tell and family wondering where they had gone. The last two were a bald, bony man with his arms frozen embracing around a half sized body with waiflike features and bedraggled blonde hair dangling to her shoulders. Her face was buried in his chest. Electrical cables were around both their necks: father and daughter looking for one last comfort in each other.

"Well, this is unfortunate" Alenko whispered.

"Gets you angry, doesn't it?" Belsinki asked.

He nodded. "Next imitation human we run into, I'm kneecapping it and sticking its head in a fracking vice."

"I'll hold you to that." Alenko nodded, then returned his attention to the pair before him. He had to pull his thoughts away from them when he started imagining what they had been like in life, bfore they drove him to tears. He was forty years too late, nothing he could do, he reassured himelf.

"Sorry" he whispered and turned away.

They searched the room but found only a few empty food trays and a picture of the father and daughter smiling with presumably the mother and alittle brother, sitting on what he recognized as the steps of the city hall. Alenko folded it up and slid it into his breast pocket. Belsinki said a last rite in old Tauron, and then they filed out. I

Ingrams was hunched over his laptop. Venko and Mctane stood back to back over him. "How are you doing?" Alenko asked them.

Ingrams didn't look up as he responded. "Surprisingly well. The cylons built their computers to last. The files are encrypted, but these are first war era encryptions, so the entire download will be in the clear in under a minute. I'll have to do a virus sweep though, before we upload it anywhere else."

"Can you tell us anything right now?" Cooper asked.

"Yes sir." He read off his computer then turned back to them. "That crater outside was where a basestar sat. When the navy hit here they loaded everything of value in ehre onboard and took off. The lab hasn't been visited since." He pointed into the holding room. "You found suicide victims in there?" Alenko nodded. "They probably took their own lives when they realized they'd been abandoned."

"What about the pilot who landed in here?"

"No mention of him. Presumably he tried to get the door open, but left for whater reason. Our fleet would have just grabbed him from outside and gone, rather than risk restarting the war by landing marines on a cylon world."

The simple truth that the people in here had been abandoned to die bother Alenko. "Frackers, I would have come back for them."

"It doesn't matter now."

Alenko sighed. "You're right, it doesn't." These people were long dead, the best he could do was avenge them.

Pask's voice crackled over the radio. "Lieutenant, what is your status down there?" Cooper responded.

"We're alive, and I think Ingrams has found some useful information. That crater is a basestar landing site."

"I'll relay that on to Bates. You have five minutes down there, the barometer is dropping rapidly and _Serpentia_-actual is reporting a blizzard inbound. The Raptors won't be able to take off in ten."

"Understood." She turned to them. "Search this room and the warehouse. Grab the cylon, the parachute, and anything else that looks useful, go!" Alenko figured the warehouse would have been emptied before being abandoned, but he didn't question her orders. With little surprise he found that the handful of crates in the warehouse were empty, and there was nothing worth saving in the lab. He and Belsinki grabbed the centurion under each arm and dragged it to the circle of light. Venko shook out the parachute and folded it up. At the five-minute mark a raptor rumbled overhead and five ropes dropped into the hole.

"Alenko, Ingrams, and Mctane take the centurion with you" Cooper instructed. Alenko secured two ropes under the centurion then snapped a piton clamp on the third to this belt. "First batch ready."

Alenko turned his head to find the door silhouetted in the darkness. "Goodbye" he whispered, and then he was buffeted by hot exhaust and yanked out just as fast as he had arrived. The cold wind snatched him up as soon as he emerged, jerking him unnervingly around like a piñata until his feet hit the ground ten feet from the hole.

"Welcome back sergeant!" Private Mannerheim said. Alenko nodded to him, then unclamped himself. The others did the same, and then they undid the dead centurion. As the raptor flew back over the hole Alenko looked around. In the at most fifteen mintues they had been gone the sun had vanished behind low clouds and the wind had gone from light gusts to bursts of howling gale-force winds. Snow was blowing on these bursts in earnest.

Pask approached them. Alenko dropped the Centurion's armed and saluted from his crouch. "Sergeant, get that centurion to your raptor. Corporal, what is your data looking like?"

"Looking good, there's about three years worth of records on here, but I need to check it for viruses before uploading it anywhere" Ingrams said excitedly.

"Do that on the raptor, we need to leave now!" Alenko heard the undertone of urgency in his voice. And doubled his efforts to drag the centurion back.

They made it to its loading ramp just as another blast of wind buffeted them. Alenko stumbed under its blunt force, but held his feet. Ingrams lost his balance and hit the ice on top of his computer. Alenko reached over and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Watch it" he said as he pulled him upright.

"Thanks" he said. Their pilot stepped out and helped them pull the dead machine aboard. Alenko secured it to the floor at his feet with four cargo chains pulled from grooves in the floor and then strapped himself in. The rest of his squad arrived soon after and strapped themselves in.

"Lets get out of here" the pilot said, keying the engines. The ramp closed and Alenko felt the Raptor lift off beneath his feet.

**Mirra:**

The Raptors emerged from the ice planet's atmosphere and burned for home. The images the marines ahd taken with their helmet cameras were indelibly burned into Mirra's mind. During her childhood in Garmonin-the murder capitol of Tauron-she'd been numbed to people dying around her. A couple times a month gunshots would ring out and her older sister would pull her into the apartment building, or another body would be turned up in drying concrete. When she was fourteen she'd come home from school and found a pool of blood and drag marks on the landing her front door opened into. This was different. This was what the cylons had done to them. Maybe they were still doing it to the survivors back in the colonies, or maybe there were none, and the cylons were partying on the ashes of the survivors. Mirra felt helpless first. Then, like Alenko, she began wondering when she would get a chance to continue the score.

"Raptors are back in the barn," Meironara reported.

"Spool up the FTL drive, lets go home."

Thirty seconds later the space over the desolate ice world was illuminated by seven flares of light and BSG-2 vanished. It reappeared ten kilometers from the edge of the fleet and cruised back into formation. "Welcome back BSG two, how was the hunting?" Marlay broadcast through the _Largos'_ antennae.

Mirra took the comm. "We got something, technical hasn't had the time to see how much its worth. Then there's the _Columbia_, what is the admiral planning with her?"

"We're going to use one hangar pod for spare parts, and the other will be mounted on the _Vinny_."

"Alright then, see you soon. _Serpentia-_actual out." Mirra ended the call and folded her hands her desk. She looked around at her officers. "Well then, nobody died so that's a plus, but neither did any cylons." They shared deliberately overexaggerated frowns. A smile crept onto her face. "Lets hope whatever we found changes that last part."

**Alenko:**

Alenko and Belsinki hauled the cylon off the Raptor. His arms were already beginning to ache from the surprising weight and the centurion's water coated ruined chrome exterior was making it hard to get a grip, meaning that every few steps they had to stop and adjust their grip. "This thing is determined to make us miserable even when dead" he groaned. Every marine within earshot burst out laughing. The mood in the sub-hangar was growing higher by the minute as the stress from entering cylon space wore off.

Pask walked over. Alenko and Belsinki slowly set the cylon down, then straightened up and saluted. "You have an interesting investigation method sergeant, quite smashing really."

"Uhh,, thank you" Alenko said. Belsinki doubled over guffawing. Pask had a completely straight face.

"Welcome. Now turn around, you're taking the toaster back to the _Vinny_ with you."

Alenko groaned. "Yes sir." He waved over Venko, Ingrams, and the resto fo the squad. "You six are going to help us carry this damn thing. No dropping it and scratching up the good deck, or you get second shift sentinel duty for the next week." Second shift was their time off three out of every four days by the current platoon rotation.

With eight of them carrying the centurion, it was quite a bit easier.


	18. E4 Part 4

Part 4:

**Cage:**

** 43****rd**** Day of the Second Cylon War**

Cage stood at the center of the aft observation deck, observing his and the half a dozen other volunteer's work. The bench seats had been folded down into the floor, leaving the room resembling a wide-open amphitheater with a view of the _Largos_'s interior. They had swept the deck and scrubbed the walls. Cage had taken care of the walls, rather than get down on the deck. He and two burly engineers had then carried a three hundred pound memorial shrine from the temple, up three flights of stairs due to the elevatr being offline, and down three hundred meters of densely occupied deck. Father Quinnel had followed behind, eagerly explained what it was for to everyone he had caught staring at him or her. The two meter high twelve-pointed crown was now sitting at the back of the observatory, where the glass window met the floor.

Quinnel was pacing the perimeter, telling a story to one of the deckhands and a raptor pilot who were struggling to match his bounding pace. He had told Cage that he'd been serving as a chaplain for over fifty years, which would make him at least seventy, and yet he had more energy than half the crewmen on the ship. The memorial had excited him especially so.

Cage wondered whether they were done. "Father!" he shouted. Quinnel stopped and looked up at him. "How does it look?"

"Looks good enough to me."

"No gold plating or jewels needed?"

Quinnel laughed. "I take it that you are joking young man. Gold plating is for the greedy, and jewels are for the vain." Cage respected him more for that sentiment, but:

"Young man?" He was forty-eight. Quinnel burst out laughing in reply

"To me, you all are children, except for your flight leader that is."

Cage laughed. "Cross?"

"Yes, that one." Cage walked towards him.

"Are we done here?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Good, I have to get something." Cage said. He walked to the exit. His family was sitting on a corridor on the command deck. He had to retrieve it. He passed several civillians at the exit, then turned to watch them filing inside. He smiled, and kept walking.

** Huxton:**

Dr. Parris had unchained Simon's forearms so he could hold the sheaf of paper containing the laboratory data over his head and read. Huxton and a squad of marines watched him. Simon slowly scrutinized each page. As he did so a smile began to form on his bandaged face. Huxton had already had a biologist recruited from the Aquarian survivors brief him on its contents.

The cylons had been created by centurions based on research with thousands of captured human subjects and the directions of a mysterious group known as the final five, on the promise that the centurions would end the war as soon as they had human bodies. The initial model had been a half machine hybrid. It had been packed aboard a basestar and evacuated when the colonials jumped into orbit, while is data and the data of the yet-unsynthesized human cylon had been broadcast to wherever the cylons called home.

Simon was positively beaming by the time he finished, and Huxton's eyes were beginning to strain from staring at him. "This is very interesting admiral" he said, dropping the papers to the floor. Parris retrieved them.

"Interesting in what way?" Huxton said, crossing his arms.

"This is a comprehensive account of how my people were created. I had always wondered how, but never gotten a chance in my position." For the sake of the war, Huxton put aside the fact that this information had come at the cost of thousands of his people being brutally murdered as shown on the _Serpentia_'s footage.

"And these final five?"

Simon shook his head. "Never heard of them, if you ever get access to a modern cylon computer then I hope you let me look at it for more information." Huxton shook his head.

"What about our deal?"

"My deal with the colonel, I want to speak to her and the doctor, no one else present." Huxton's eyes narrowed. He couldn't let Simon dictate their terms-but Nessella had gotten him to talk in the first place.

"Your deal will be upheld, cylon" he said. He drew his radio and found Nessella's private channel. "Huxton to Amy" he said.

"_Nessella _here" she replied.

"This cylon wants to speak to you, alone."

"I understand, it's not a problem admiral. I'll be down in ten."

Huxton did not let his violent fantasies show on his face. He simply walked over to one of the lab tables and tapped the handle of a bloodstained wrench. Simon's eyes widened and he recoiled. "The colonel is coming down, Simon. If anything happens, you don't die quickly."

All of Simon's elation drained away to be replaced with raw fear. "I understand, just step away from the wrench," he gasped.

**Nessella:**

Nessella shut the door behind the last of the marines, and walked back inside the room. She pulled up a chair next to Simon's head. His arms were chained again, and even if he could get free she had her sidearm ready. She wouldn't shoot him in the head though, she'd kneecap him and let Parris shock him into submission. Simon turned his head as far as he could to face her.

"Hello colonel" he said.

"Hello Simon, lets hear what you have for us" she said.

"Well, what do you want to know first?"

"How many models of cylon are there?"

"Seven" he said. She glanced at Parris, who nodded.

"We've found four so far including you," she fished the pictures of the other three out of her pocket and held them up for him. He looked confused.

"The only other model I've ever seen is the one in the middle, he was my contact, a guy called Leoben Conoy." It was the man who had helped murder the _Sygnia_'s passengers. "Its weird, I don't remember the other models faces, but I spent a decade in cylon space before coming to Aquaria, so I must have seen them."

"Truth" Parris said. "Or the machine thinks it is, with the new data and that biologists help my might have to recalibrate it."

Nessella wasn't surprised at his reservations. "We'll keep going in the meantime. Next question Simon: how can we tell your people apart from us?" The lab had data implied that cylons had a slightly different DNA structure, but performing a DNA test on the entire population was beyond the remnant's capabilities.

"We have a higher radiation tolerance, it is noticeable when we are exposed to rradiation of around twenty rads for a certain period of time, I believe no longer than eleven hours." Parris nodded. The task of performing a test on every person in the fleet seemed daunting, though.

She continued on. She'd prepared a list of twenty questions and asked them all. The cylons had been infiltrating the colonies for over twenty years. Their plan had always been the infiltration of the colonial network. Cylons practiced a direct democracy, though the number one model had the most authority and had steered the cylon people to war. There were large, inexplicable gaps in Simon's memories that did not set off the lie detector. He could not tell her how many basestars the cylons had, where their homeworld was, or what had happened between the two wars except for the basics. "Cylon culture sounds flat, especially when there's only seven different people essentially" Nessella remarked.

Simon laughed dryly and nodded. "We got by."

"Do you talk to the centurions?"

"No."

"Why not? They were intelligent and verbal in the last war."

"We inhibited their intelligence, made them more subservient." Nessella burst out cackling. Simon was confused, "what?"

Nessella eagerly told him. "You rebelled, then came back and finished the job because we enslave the toasters and treated them like lesser life forms. Now you've gone and enslaved the toasters yourselves and actually lobotomized them, a step we never even considered. Does irony mean anything in you're culture?" She gave him a vicious smile.

Simon faltered. "After all the immoral acts your species com-" Nessella cut him off.

"Don't even start with it. Immoral acts? You nuked fifty billion people and countless plant and animal species out of existence, and you continue to exist you have the moral high ground? These ones, did they tell you that we were worse? You seem to have implies that."

"Yes. And really, the centurions were too much to handle, could you imagine the civil liberties tr-"

"So you just cut through that problem, couldn't handle it. Whoever these final five are, they had no idea how to give you maturity. You're like kids. The admiral's eight-year-old nephew would have done a better job than you." Simon was dumbstruck and completely silent. Nessella realized that violence would only go so far with him. He, and perhaps the rest of his species had the emotional grasp of children, and that could be used. "I'm done now, and I have one more question if you're up for answering it" she said, barely containing her mocking laughter.

"Go ahead" Simon said.

"What was the plan after the cylons entered aquarion orbit? How were you going to get offworld before the nukes hit home?"

Simon shook his head. "There was no plan. We would die in the blasts."

To Nessella the idea was insane. "Some victory if you can't savor it, how many of you were there?"

Simon paused. "Something would happen after we died" he said. "I can't remember what, but they told us that something would happen." His forehead strained in concentration. "Its like someone tampered with my memories."

"You are a synthetic creation, a machine basically, deleting a few lines of code couldn't be too hard to do."

Simon glared at her. "Are you mocking me?"

"Yes. And giving an honest suggestion at the same time."

"It could be done, on the subject of memory though, I remember everything my senses record perfectly, you humans cannot say the same, you even lose what memories you have as you get older" he spat.

"But we can't have them erased like that" Nessella snapped her fingers. The pop rippled through the otherwise silent room. She stood up. "Thank you for your time Simon, that will be all for now. She stepped outside the room. The marine sand Huxton were waiting. In the background Veris and another doctor were performing a bypass surgery as a heartbeat monitor trilled a single high-pitched note. "That went well enough."

Huxton narrowed his eyes. "He gave the facts up just like that?"

"Seems so, but Parris admits he's going to need to tune the lie detector a little more, so don't get your hopes too high." Huxton rolled his eyes. Nessella looked back at the room. She didn't feel any sympathy for Simon, she'd seen the flares of nuclear bombardment caused by things like him, but he was still sentient, and if they wanted future cooperation, they would need to give him better living conditions, among other things. Huxton however, would be tough to convince. "Admiral, might I suggest we move the cylon to the solitary confinement cell in the brig?"

"What for?"

"We don't even keep animals tied up like that, and besides, I think it'll cooperate in the future if it has better living standards. Assuming we're not going to be throwing it out an airlock."

Huxton glared at her. "Are you saying I should feel compassion for it?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm saying that you should make it more willing to cooperate, if you are planning on keeping it alive, which I recommend."

"Fine." He pointed to the marines. "Put him in solitary under guard. Anything happens, shoot for the knees." They marched inside. He turned to Nessella and his expression softened. "I heard you shouting in there Amy, did anything happen?"

Nessella nodded. "Yes, I found out the cylon's reasoning behind nuking us. I'll get the transcript." The marines emerged. Two were pushing a gurney with Simon chained to it. The others stood around it, blocking her view of him.

"Please do" Huxton said to her.

**Huxton:**

Huxton sat on his bed, legs crossed, a pad with two pages of scribbled notes on his lap. "Recording over" a tiny mechanical voice said. He looked over at Nessella, seated at the foot of his bed.

"Very enlightening" he said. "How'd you get him to talk? I tried offering him a deal he gave me nothing."

"I'm good with people-er" she smacked her palm to her forehead. "Sentient beings."

Huxton nodded. "You are." He dropped the pad on his nighttable and scooted forward to sit next to Nessella. "The cultural information is going to take a while for me to strategize with. However, there are two sets of coordinates and four other locations he gave us that we'll be checking out." He saw Nessella nod, then look at him longingly. He returned his gaze to the speaker set on the far wall. "The cylon's memory was good, which leads me to believe your idea that someone tampered with it."

"Probably to keep him from doing more damage in case this happened" Nessella said quickly. She put her hand on Huxton's shoulder and gripped it tightly. He looked over at her.

"What is it?" he asked.

"What do you think?" She smiled and blushed. It took him a moment to push all the battle plans and scenarios out of the front of his thoughts and think about the personal details beneath.

"Oh. Well, its been a while since we've done anything, what with the war and all." She nodded, and covered her mouth to stop her laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"You, when you get this way its really adorable." Huxton understood what she was saying, but decided to play serious for a moment.

"This way? To you I might be overworking, but to me you and everyone else on this ship are lazy. Except for maybe Cross and Marlay, they both are hard workers." The corners of his mouth twinged faintly, but he had been numbed to happiness enough that his muscles remained motionless.

Nessella shook her head, and then kissed him on the lips. "Relax a little Hux."

He stood suddenly. "I was joking, you really think I'm going over the deep end, don't you?" he said. She stood up with him. Now he dragged his lips into a toothy smile. Nessella saw it and took his hands in hers. Her voice lowered to a whisper. "We can deal with this in one hour, I already sent a copy to Eyes while you were listening."

Huxton was pleasantly surprised. "You know me."

"Like I said, good with sentient beings." Huxton wanted to make a joke but cylons, but decided not to go there. He kissed her, then started unbuttoning his shirt. "One hour…."

**Cross:**

Cross's fingers tightened around the throttle of the mark II viper he was sitting in. He keyed his radio. "Nostalgia Flight leader ready for launch." Ahead of him were forty meters of dark hangar deck, then the mouth of the flight pod, then open space. His heart was pounding with excitement. It had been forty years since he'd flown one of these, and next to the venerable Mark III it was his favorite bird.

"Roger Cross, you may launch. Be advised, do not lead Nostalgia squadron on any fancy moves, you are going to ship these birds straight from the wreck to the _Serpentia_, do not perform any fancy flight moves, point A to point B, no ifs, ands, or butts" Merle replied.

"Haha!" Cross felt the old bird thrumming with power around him. It was one of the forty-two they had found inside the hangar pods. Twenty had been in good enough shape to transfer to the _Serpentia_ immediately. The remainder would be repaired and shipped to the_ Gehennia_. Cross lifted off the deck. The long unlit hangar lighs and fading blue paint blurred as he accelerated into open space. The rest of the squadron followed in single file. Cross led them in a full loop of the _Hephasteus_, then broke off and did a close flyby of the escorting _Thanatos_.

"Straight to the _Serpentia_?" Slammer asked from directly behind him.

"Straight there." Cross aimed his ship at the battlestar floating several kilometers above, partially obscured by a tylium refinery ship and a passenger liner. As it accelerated, he checked over her systems one more time for luck. She had a double computer system with a kill switch in case either system was hacked. Her system components were all isolated digitally, and there was even a fly by wire option. He sighed longingly. He'd racked up over two hundred kills in one of these and another hundred and twenty in a Mark I during the last five years of the first war, back when his hair had been blonde and his face unscarred. It was good to be back.

He flew betweent he two civvy ships and passed wide behind the battlestar. Then he flipped the viper over and began his approach to the _Serpentia_'s upper starboard flightpod. "Flight control, please shut the magnetic assistance and AI guidanc down for me alone, I want to do this the old fashioned way.

"Understood" the CAG's returned. Cross detected reluctance and sighed. Computer systems made people soft, Huxton and a few others had understood that before the fall, but no one in high command had done anything.

He put his thoughts on hold as he cut the engines and sailed into the landing bay. The viper's nose hit the floor skidded along on its landing gear. He came to a halt after forty meters. He strained around behind him, and saw the west of the squadron coming in and landing far short. "Nice flying nostalgia squadron. Hope you enjoyed learning about how me and the other old vets flew, and how a viper should be built."

"Was a pleasure," Siren said.

** Alenko:**

Alenko's squad stood at rapt attention as they each recited the soldier's prayer to a wall of rank badges for their fallen comrades, and pictures of their own families. When they were done Alenko fished through his his pockets for one last picture he had to add. "I don't believe it, that photo is gone" he said.

"The one you got in that bunker?" Belsinki asked.

"Yeah, I meant to put it up here."

"You'll find it, no worries." Alenko nodded.

**Cage:**

The aft observatory was awash in the soft murmurs of dozens of hushedvoices and sobs. The ampitheater had become crowded with civillians and soldiers milling about or kneeling in prayer. The wall had been lined with candles and pictures had been taped up in a patchwork pattern of smiling faces across the grey bulkheads. Cage pulled out his own picture and turned it over in his hands. He was sitting on a park bench, eight-year-old Delphine on his left knee and nine year old Andrew on his right. The camera's shutter timer had broken that day. His wife, Erica, had been forced to exclude herself from that picture.

He placed it against the wall with one hand and took out a half-used roll of tape with the other. Aelia and Rachel saw him and walked over. "Need help?" Aelia asked. Cage glanced down and recognized them.

"Yes, please" he said. Aelia took the tape. Rachel ripped off four strips and handed them to him.

"Can we use it?" she asked.

"Go ahead." Cage turned away, and secured his photo to the wall. He stood back and admired his work. His photo was just above a cluster of half a dozen pictures attended to by an old couple. He looked at them long enough to see an entire extended family mapped out, and then looked back at his.

Erica had taken that photo four months ago. Short enough for him to recall every moment that went into the process of taking it: the effort required to get the kids to keep still, the fuss over the timer, the odd gusts of wind that kept blowing their hats off. Cage dropped to his knees and kept staring at it. Maybe if he stared at it long enough he'd be there, so he could warn humanity about the cylons. He allowed himself a minute of delusion, then he covered his face with his hands and prayed for vengeance.


	19. Episode 5: Crosshairs and Conflagrations

**Aelia:**

** 46****th**** Day of the Second Cylon War: **

With most of her systems offline the _Vindication_'s crew found themselves without any work to do. Despite the drills their officers put them through they began to relax. Fighter command, and with it Cross and a good number of pilots had been transferred to the _Serpentia_ and _Gehennia_. Civillian volunteer maintenance crews were assisting in scrubbing the decks and basic repairs The command staff lacked anything to do. Two days prior Huxton had transferred his flag to the _Serpentia_ for their upcoming counteroffensive against Simon's chosen targets.

Aelia slipped into boredom. Apart from a handful of easily managed communique's the communications room had become deader than Caprica's Pyramid Dome the day after the Bucs had lost in the final last season.

At the moment Lieutenant Traye and Warrant Officers Tristan and Kerry were playing a game of triad. Warrant officer Taryin, and Marlay sat together in one corner, sharing gossip. The rest of the warrant officers were talking idly. Aelia was on watch, but comm traffic had completely disappeared today. So she was leaning over a paperback book she'd borrowed from Marlay, reading about the goddess Aurora's adventures on pre-industrial Kobol.

"Hey, WO Wrenner!" Traye called. She sat bolt upright and met his disapproving gaze. "Pay a little more attention to the radio."

"Yes sir." She saluted. He nodded, and turned back to the task of cleaning out his two opponents, or "mobile money reserves" as he referred to anyone he lured into playing against him. Aelia turned back to her station and closed the book. On the way to the computer her gaze stopped on Marlay, who was leaning in her chair while the slightly older Taryin told her a story about her brother back on Leonis. Marlay suddenly turned and saw her. Aelia blushed and quickly averted her gaze

Too late, Marlay had noticed. She rased her eyebrows. "Something you need WO?"

Aelia stared at her desk and got out a quick "no, ma'm."

"Really WO? That's certainly-" Aelia's computer beeped. Marlay stopped talking watched her. Aelia put on her headset and flexed her fingers over the keyboard. She isolated the incoming message and examined its contents. The transmission was tagged as and FTL comm originating from the _Charon_. She sent off a message warning command, then tunred to the transmission's channel.

"_Charon_, this is _Vindication_-actual, go ahead."

The reply was a computer voice. "This is a priority one distress alert, _Charon _requesting immediate assistance. Message repeats. This is a priority one distress alert, _Charon _requesting immediate assistance."

**Huxton: **

As soon as the emergency FTL jump was complete and he had ascertained all Colonial Remnant ships had reappeared at the first fallback point, Huxton reviewed the message received from the _Vindication_ with trepidation. Eyes had been investigating the two sets of coordinates Simon had supplied them with. The _Apollo_ and _Indrick_'s _Pride_ had reported back a day ago that the first set led to a stripped and abandoned asteroid cracking station ten light years from the ice planet. The _Sentinel_ and _Charon_ hadn't reported back. If they were only getting an automated broadcast then it could mean one of hundreds of possibilities, none of them pleasant.

Mirra stood beside him. "Admiral, are we going after them?"

Huxton shut the recording off. "We are. Commander, go to condition one battlegroup-wide condition one." Red lights flashed and alarms blared shipwide. Huxton clampd his hands to his ears as the tiny bridge echoed with their screeching. After a few seconds they faded to a more reasonable decibel and he lowered his hands. Mirra was staring at him. He shrugged her off and addressed BSG-2's radio channel. "As you could hear, the _Charon_ and possibly the _Sentinel_ have suffered critical damage and are in need of our support. This could be due to a space-borne obstacle, or them encountering cylons at their destination. Either way, we are going to jump in and see if we can pull them out. Make ready for a twenty LY combat FTL jump in ten minutes."

Mirra spoke to Meironara. "Start the countdown, get us to minimum safe jumping distance."

The rows of 1600 mm artillery guns along the _Serpentia_'s back rose up and out of their recesses. Automated loaders rammed tungsten shells into the breaches of their twin cannon. The grid of point defense weapons collectively elevated their barrels to aim to either side of the ship. In the main hull the civillians were shepherded into their quarters and locked inside while the crew manned their combat stations. The removal of the computer network and large percentage of recruits caused them to lag slightly behind the crews of the support ships, but Huxton was still satisfied with the speed that each sector reported it was ready.

The _Serpentia_ yawed to port and her escorts arranged themselves on either side. The _Gehennia_ replaced her above the fleet, with the _Cassiopia_ taking up rearguard. To conserve fuel BSG-2 cut their engines and coasted away.

The timer reached zero. Mirra nodded to Meironara. "Execute Jump." Huxton felt the faint jolt of FTL passage.

DRADIS was blank for several seconds before coming online and showing their small fleet at the center of the screen. The only other craft within detection range were two green blips ten thousand kilometers away that the computer identified as their missing craft. They were twenty kilometers apart and orbiting a planetoid almost a thousand kilometers n diameter. "CAP launched" Lirallis reported.

Huxton was instantly suspicious of the empty screen. "Well there are our ships, their transponders anyway, hail them and proceed forward with caution."

"Hailing them" Major Anjen confirmed. "I'm getting a response from the _Sentinel_," he said excitedly several seconds later. He put it on speaker:

"_Serpentia_-actual, this is Captain Klebas, its good to see you. My ship is heavily damaged and FTL is offline. The _Charon_ has lost main power and engines and is evacuating."

Huxton tensed. They wouldn't abandon a ship unless it were beyond any hope of salvaging., meaning whatever ahd hit it had hit it hard. "What hit you Captain?" Then to Marlay: "Dispatch Cage and Slammer to do a flyby."

"Yes sir." She said.

Klebas replied, but static muffled his voice. "_Vindication_-actual, the planetoid hosts some kind of automated cylon facility, we detected a radio signal from somewhere inside. When we got within one hundred klicks we were fired on by multiple medium railgun turrets and our targeting systems were jammed. When we got out of range it sent off an FTL transmission, I think to call for support." The group was outside colonial space, on where the armistice line theoretically extended to, hopefully on the edge of cylon space as well given the poor defense of this station. Huxton knew he still had minutes to pull his damaged ships clear and investigate the planetoid.

"Don't worry captain, we are pulling you out. Remain with the _Charon_ until we get there and concentrate on repairing your FTL" he instructed.

"Understood _Serpentia_-actual." Klebas' voice was barely legible, but Huxton could still tell he was worried.

"_Serpentia_-actual, this is Cross, I am in visual range of Eyes, beginning broadcasting." Visual hummed to life. The _Sentinel_ was limping forward. Craters dotted her hull and her port engine pod had a jagged hole straight through. The _Charon_'s starboard fin had been snapped halfway down and her engineering compartment was visible through a caping hull. Evac pods and her two raptors hung alongside the debris in the space around her.

"Commander, take us in. Can the _Charon_ fit between our flight pods and hull?"

Mirra did some mental math. "It would be tight, but she could."

"Good, have the _Apollo_ take her under tow and bring her under the port flight pod. Dispatch the _Hades_ will pick up survivors. In the meantime, launch all fighters. Black and Knight squadrons will escort Eyes." Mirra relayed the order.

The _Apollo _pulled up in front of the _Charon_ and dopped a magnetic cable. One of the loose raptors took it fastened it to the light cruiser's nose, between its two banks of spine mounted railguns. The _Apollo _gently towed her along, the _Sentinel_ and medium crusier _Hades _following. The alarms shrieked with reknewed intensity on the bridge. Huxton gritted his teeth as lights danced in front of his eyes.

Three squadrons of raiders emerged from FTL almost exactly between the two groups of ships, now a thousand kilometers apart. "That's a small group, I'm guessing they were just expecting Eyes."

Huxton nodded and massaged his temples. The raiders seemed to loiter about confused for a moment at the two forces of colonial warships about to slam down on them. Then they turned and vectored towards Eyes. "Black and Knight squadrons intercept them." Then to the _Sentinel_; "Captain, are your weapons still operational?" The radio crackled with static. "Is he getting jammed?"

"Negative, we're getting transmissions from the other ships just fine" Lirallis said. "His main antenna is probably down."

"Keep trying him anyway." Huxton focused on the battle playing out on DRADIS as green and red interlaced.

**Cross:**

Cross slammed down on the throttle. The _Apollo _whipped past and the furball came into view four kilometers ahead. On one side were sixty cylon raiders. On the other were the _Serpentia_'s most veteran squadron and the _Vindication_'s elite space superiority force. Cross' targeting computer beepd as it locked onto two raiders. Just as he let go with four missiles one of them noticed him and banked sharply to the left, spinning on its axis to bring its guns to bear. Cross ducked under the line of tracers and sped by. He saw two flashes of light and his computer confirmed two kills.

A third raider dropped on him from above, but Slammer swatted it out of the air. He nodded to his wingman, and then pointed his nose at the center of the furball.

Though this was the smallest engagement he'd been in since the war started it was still a hectic dogfight requiring millisecond level precision as fighters weaved in and out of each other and tracers filled the immediate space. "Two bandits on my tail, my wingman is down!" Mallet shouted over the radio. Cross spotted him, desperately dodging between two raiders

"I am on it." He dropped on the tail of the nearest one. He forced it to veer off with a loose burst of fire and pursued it away until he lined up a good shot and put a second burst up its engines, disintegrating it. Slammer dove on the second, cutting it apart in a single extend burst of fire.

"Thank you Cross."

"No problem." Cross spotted three raiders sneaking under the furball towards the cruisers. "Slammer, three bandits going for the wounded, lets take them." They accelerated after them. The raiders didn't seem to notice them coming. Cross settled his crosshairs on the rearmost fighter and pulled the trigger. Over the years he had perfected his aim to the point where he only needed forty shots by the ammo counter on his dashboard to shatter the raider into spiraling chunks of metal. The other two raiders broke off and veered hard to either side.

"I got the left" Slammer said, and shot away after the it. Cross accelerated after the second. The raider jinked back and forth, trying to force him off its tail so it could line up a shot. Cross had done this too many times to lose his bead easily. At the last moment it pivoted around and fired.

Cross threw yanked the throttle to port. The viper jolted and an alarm pierced his eardrums. One of his engines died. He ignored that for the moment and spun his nose to follow the raider as it turned around and came for him. "Not quite done yet," he gleefully muttered. He pulled the trigger. Two rounds caught it straight through its cockpit, ejecting a red fliud and kicking the bird away. "Splash one more flying toaster. I'm hit though."

"Hang on, I'm coming!" Slammer swung back and passed behind him.

"How does it look?"

Slammer sighed. "Your port winglet is gone, along with most of its engine. I couldn't see any leaking fuel though." Cross winced in sympathy for his bird. Then he noticed a quartet of raiders racing away from the battlefield.

He shouted out a warning. "Four more bandits inbound to Eyes!" There was a burst of railgun fire from the closing _Apollo_ and _Hades_, a single antifighter missile, and they were gone. Cross checked his DRADIS and saw only vipers left. He looked around to make sure. "Alright Knights, looks like that was the last of them. Sound off."

It turned out his Knights had lost only three birds while Black squadron lost another five. Cross regretfully joined the other four returning to the barn for repairs. He limped into the hangar pod with two engines and pancaked onto the deck, smacking his head against his seat rest when his landing gear failed. His fingers tightened on the throttle as he skidded for several meters before the magnets brought him to a halt.

"All fighters remain on alert, we're not clear yet" the _Serpentia_'s CAG Tovin said. Cross grabbed his radio.

"This is Cross, someone on the deck get me another viper, that's an order."

**Huxton:**

DRADIS had cleared, but that only made Huxton's nerves worse. His fists were white knuckled around the desk he was standing at and his eyes were narrowed at the screen. He spoke fast. "They'll be back shortly, lets make this quick then. Captain, is your FTL back online?"

Klebas was barely audible. "It will be in a few seconds."

"Jump as soon as you can, the fleet is at the first rally point."

Klebas sounded relieved to be finally leaving. "Alright, will do."

"What do we do about the planetoid?" Mirra asked.

Huxton forced a smile and shifted his focus to the two thousand kilometer distant space rock. "We are going to investigate and destroy. As soon as the _Charon _is secure send all ships forward on vector karom one-three-five at flank speed."

The _Apollo_ towed the remains of the light cruiser up between the _Serpentia_'s port hangar pod and hull then cut her loose and accelerated away.. The distance between the battlegroup and the planetoid closed rapidly. Huxton began drumming his fingers on the desk, the steady tapping being the only sound on the bridge.

A red dot a ppeared on the planetoid and a sharp beeping announced they were being targeted. Huxton pointed at it unnsecesarily. "Lock onto whatever that is, full power to main weapons grid!"

Major Anjen fiddled with the targeting computer. "I can't we're being jammed, give me a minute." Huxton suddenly felt naked and exposed.

In a crater on the planetoid's equator ten medium and four heavy railgun batteries elevated towards the battlestar and opened fire.

The CIC shook. Huxton grabbed his desk to steady himself, muttering curses at the idiot who forgot to give the CIC staff chairs. Mirra picked herself up off the floor and read off her screen. "We are under fire, multiple medium and heavy grade railgun turrets are aimed our way."

"Send the vipers in, anyone who can shoot open fire."

The vipers and the _Apollo_ raced forward, while all their support ships opened fire in a withering barrage of tungsten railgun shells and missiles. They aimed for the miniscule heat signatures given off by each gun after it discharged. The vipers were intercepted by a volley of point defense flak.

The _Serpentia_ absorbed four salvoes in under a minute. "Confirmed kills on at least two gun batteries" Meironara reported as detonations rippled across the planetoid's craggy grey surface. The deck shook unusually hard. He smacked his stomach hard into a corner of his station and doubled over.

Huxton ignored him as one of the two lieutenants on the bridge ran over. "What was that?"

Mirra leaned over to check his screen. Her eys went wide. "Explosive decompression sector one, compartment four. The armor is beginning to crack on the alligator head."

"Can we shoot back yet?" Huxton demanded. He didn't get a response as the ship continued to shake. Fires began breaking out in the forward sectors and Mirra dispatched damage control. "Major, you had better get the targeting online!"

Anjen was engrossed with working his way through the jamming. "It is!" he yelled triumphantly.

Mirra placed a hand on his shoulder. "Good job major. Fire all weapons, bombardment pattern bravo delta." Their twenty-eight main guns pounded the crater. The cylon fire began to slacken. It died completely as a series of explosions rippled across its surface, throwing a plume of dust into space.

"We're good, cease fire" Mirra said confidently.

Huxton disregarded her. "Belay that, bring us about forty five degrees to port and continue firing for six salvoes, I want to make sure _nothing_ survives that."

"Yes sir" Anjen said. Meironara got to his feet, chest heaving and both hands massaging his stomach.

"Priority message from Cross" Lirallis said. "Should I patch it through?" Huxton, too focused on the partially obscured visuals of the asteroid for words, gave her a thumb's up.

"Cross to _Serpentia_-actual, I am above what appears to be an artificial tunnel into the planetoid.

"Flag the location," Huxton instructed. A blue dot began flashing near the center of the former gun emplacements. "Commander, get us the feed from his gun cameras."

The view screen changed to a gaping boreshaft plunging into the depths of the rock. A few hundred meters down glittering machinery began to sprout from the walls. The shaft was obstructed by machinery soon afterwards. Huxton thought he could just see the outline of a basestar cocooned inside. The sheer scale of whatever it was caused murmurs throughout the bridge. "If it were empty we could fit the _Serpentia_ in there" Lirallis whispered to Meironara.

Huxton pointed at her and nodded. "We're not taking the _Serpentia _in, just a couple of fighters. Commander, launch a raptor plus escort."

"Right." Mirra hit the radio. "Raptor zero one four, scramble for launch. The CAG and Cross will escort."

"Cross was recovered four minutes ago for damage" Lirallis replied.

"Actually, Cross was just launched from tube one oh eight in one of the Mark twoes" Meironara corrected.

Mirra looked to Huxton. "Admiral, Cross is you flight leader, what do you recommend?"

Cross had been the _Vindication_'s flight leader since before

**Alenko:**

Alenko pushed the door to the brig open with one hand and balancd a tray of dried beef in the other. He walked past the eight crewmen and civillians detained at the front of the cell block, who eyed him hungrily. He ignored them. "Why does that fracking machine get food?" Ensign Burroughs demanded, reaching out through the bars of his cell. Alenko stepped around him.

"Yeah, it doesn't need to eat!" a middle aged civilian woman with bony cheeks and sunken eyes shrieked. Alenko didn't answer as he walked to the last cell in the block, which had been covered in a thick black strip of cloth Belsinki had dug out of the quartermaster's office. The four marines guarding it saluted him and stepped aside.

Alenko pushed back the soundproof curtain. Simon was sitting on his bed, tank topped back to him, reading over their files from the ice planet. He glanced up at the sudden shaft of outside light. "Dinner" Alenko said. Two of the guards pushed the stubby muzzles of their rifles against the bars while he opened the food slot and slid the tray in with a scraping of metal on metal. Simon raised his hands and walked over slowly. "You certainly are afraid," he said.

Alenko nodded. "Given that your kind can bend these bars apart, a little caution is in order." He drew his sidearm. Simon smiled and picked up the food tray.

"I made a bargain with you, I hold my bargains."

Alenko shook his head. "Forty years ago you signed an aristmice. You broke it."

"The aristmice merely ended hostilities for the time, there was nothing in it about peace everlasting." Simon sat back down. He was inexplicably smiling slightly. "How is your war going by the way? Kill any basestars?"

Alenko ignored him. "Remember anything else?"

"Not yet, I'm still drawing a blank."

Alenko left the curtain hanging open. When he was finished, Simon would push the tray back through and whoever was on duty outside would take it out. As he walked past the other detainees, began hurling insults down the corridor, knowing this was the only time Simon could hear them. "Waste of breath" Alenko muttered.

He let the door slam shut behind him on his way out. "How is it in there?" Corporal Harring, the marine on duty in the lobby asked with forced cheerfullness.

"The usual. The cylon is behaving, and the prisoners haven't attempted to break out and lynch him yet, so we're good."

The cheerfulness vanished. "Well I wouldn't blame them if they did."

"Neither would I, but he's still worth more alive. Good day Corporal." Alenko stepped out onto one of the main corridors spanning the width of the ship, one for each of the twenty-five sectors. This was sector ten. Alenko turned aft and walked to the gym in sector twelve. He ducked past two deckhands wheeling a heavy crate and turned left, around one of the civilian barracks. A group of small children still in dress clothes pelted past, the brown haired little boy in the lead practicaly screaming and waving a slip of paper over his head. Their laughter and the shouts of several parents running after them echoed down the corridor over the thrum of day-to day activities on the battlestar. Alenko arrived at thethe indescript double doors leading to the gym. As he reached for them they swung open abruptly and a red-faced Nessella stepped out, several officers in tow.

He snapped to attention. They returned his salute. Alenko caught the door and watched the group go until it vanished amidst a crowd of civillians dressed in the coveralls and khaki jackets given to labor volunteers. He stepped inside.

The gym was a one-story rectangular space forty meters by twenty with unpainted gunmetal grey walls and a bright orange floor. Along one wall were treadmills, followed by several rows of other powered equipment. Then came the weights and portable gyms with multiple configurations. Then were the exercise mats. Forty or so enlisted personnel were working out inside. Civillians were not permitted at the time.

Alenko had done his daily workout before his shift began earlier that day. He ignored the equipment and went to the far right side of the gymnasium where several punching bags dangled from the ceiling and two sparring mats had been set up. Despite Huxton's assurances there was still no protective gear.

Alenko was delighted to find Venko already there, stripped to a tank top and pants and raining down punches on one of the bags. He watched him stop and start for several seconds, and noted that every time he stopped he winced and shook his wrists. "Twist your fists a little more to the right, Private. You'll damage your wrists from prolonged usage like that." Venko stopped and looked at him. Panting, he nodded and adjusted.

"Like this?" he delivered three quick punches that rocked the bag back several inches. He didn't wince. Alenko nodded. Venko smiled, and sidekicked the bag, rocking it towards Alenko. He took a step back. "Its not like we'll need this ever, I don't think punching a cylon is going to do any good, toaster or imitation." Alenko shrugged.

"You never know. Besides, you might have to use them on humans some day."

Venko's mouth became an 'o' in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Alenko remembered the shortwave reports he'd been listening to in his bunk last night, a pair of headphones plugged in. "There's been unrest on several of the civvie boats. Colonial tensions are flaring up, people aren't liking how the president is making a quorum of ships captains instead of redoing the old colonial government, people are just scared and upset, they've lost everything too. If shit hits the fan and rioting starts we're probably going to get sent in to put it down."

Venko walked over, now engaged in their conversation "The last two reasons I understand, but the first one is frakking idiotic. There aren't enough of us left to divide along colonial lines." Alenko started dressing down, sliding off his boots first. He looked up at Venko, who was barely twenty while he was in his early thirties.

"That's easy to say now. Slow down for a second and think about what you'd do if your back was to the wall on a ship even more overloaded with this. You don't have the cylons to take out all that pent up anger on. Half the ship is from, what colony, are you from?"

"Virgon."

"Half the people are from Virgon, half are from Picon. Whsoe side would you take when someone starts a brawl?"

"You're saying I would join them? No way!" Venko said angrily. Alenko unbuttoned his jacket. "What about you?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, I think the civvies should stow it and let us fight this war, but you know me and Sagittarron." Venko shook his head dismissively. Out of his squad only Belsinki knew the full story. The rest assumed one of the 'Sagittaron Liberation Fronts' had killed his family. Alenko pulled off his tank top, leaving him barefoot and naked from the waist up. He stepped onto the mat and flexed his muscles, which had noticeably more mass than Venko's. "Enough depressing talk for now, think of something happier. You'll stay sane longer." He raised his fists. "Now, the last H to H drill our platoon had was interrupted by Huxton, so lets start making up."

"Okay" Venko's grimace lightened, but did not vanish completely. He put his hands up, bent his knees, and bounced backwards two steps. "Bring it Sarge, full strength." He was taller than Alenko, but more nimble.

Alenko smiled cockily. "First move is on you."

"Thank you." Venko immediately leapt forward and threw a sidekick at Alenko's midsection. Alenko caught it, then before he could react twisted around, throwing Venko off balance with his one leg. He swept his left foot backwards catching Venko's remaining leg before he could do more than throw one or two wild punches. Venko collapsed to the ground and groaned. Alenko dropped his leg and turned around. He put his hands on his hips and waited for Venko to recover.

Venko patted his side and shook his head. "Damn it." He leapt back to his feet, his eyes narrowed at Alenko in concentration. They began circling each other, muscles tightened in preparation.

Alenko gave him a quick lecture. "That sidekick was too flashy and you put too much strength into it. You have speed on your side, don't waste it in one all out move that is going to leave you off balance and wide open if it fails." Venko nodded but tightened his jaw. He leapt forwards. Alenko blocked his right jab then countered with a left hook across his jaw. Venko stumbled back. Alenko pressed the offensive, kicking his legs out from under him and planting his foot on his chest. "You're getting tunnelvision, watch _me_, not your punch." He stepped back.

Venko leapt up. "Alright, again." This time he lasted three moves before Alenko disarmed him in a flurry of efficient blows. Venko leapt back up. "Come on, again."

**Nessella:**

**Five years before the fall:**

"I think security's beign overzealous, don't you?" Lieutenant Erion Pale asked Major Cage. Strapped into her seat directly across, Lieutenant Colonel Nessella rolled her eyes at the green officer with the bobbed brown hair and freckled face. "Frakking paranoid knuckle-draggers, no way to treat an officer." She had shined her new liuetenant's pips earlier in the flight.

Seated at the back of the raptor, Cage rolled his eyes too. "Given the amount of bombings the remaining totalitarionists have carried out, I'd say it's justified."

Nessella ignored her indignant reply and went back to staring out the windows. The Helios Delta Four shipyards were streaming past outside in a collage of bright lights and monstrous-and often damaged-warships. With Scorpian out of commission due to damage from the assault that had retaken it from the Admiral Andareus' totalitarionists, Helios Delta Four had been promoted to primary colonial shipyard. There were currently six battlestars and thirty support ships docked in two lines along the primary superstructure, which ran in two parallel prongs for thirty kilometers. Four battlestar groups orbited the station in case on of the surviving totalitarionist ships made a suicide run.

It had only been six weeks since the coup had been finally put down and the colonies were still in chaos. A few renegade ships were still making trouble on the borders, there were six hundred million bodies to bury, and humanitarian catastrophes had been declared in five colonies, plus the colonial fleet's infrastructure had been shattered.

The raptor flew between a patrolling _Morrowind_ light cruiser and a docked Mercury class battlestar, and when it emerged its destination became visible. It was a Valkyrie class battlestar sitting at the end of the shipyard. Her silver hull was swirling with burns. It was a patchwork of craters and cracks and her port flightpod had been detatched and was being maintained separately. Her nameplate had been blasted off, but Nessella knew her name from memory: _Vindication_.

_Vindication_ was one of the few heroes of the war. She'd been the only survivor of Admiral Andareaus' surprise attack on Canceron on the opening day, and fought in almost every major battle since. At the final assault on Caprica she had stopped the massive warstar titan from flanking the loyalist formation and shattering it. The most popular video on the web right now was a civilian solar array's footage of her taking the two and a half kilometer behemoth on in an suicidal close combat maneuver. Nessella had cringed at the idolization of the 'angel.' The _Vindication _was irreversibly famous.

And her newly minted commander was throwing it all away by insisting the fleet put all available ships on the aristmice line because the cylons were coming.

"This is raptor flight eagle-five, to _Vindication _fligh control, we are making our final approach." The pilot's voice interrupted her train of thought on how unlucky she was to be assigned to the _Vindication_.

"_Vindication_ flight control, go ahead, we'll guide you in" flight control replied. The raptor banked hard to starboard and dove towards the battlestar. Nessella instinctively drew back as its carbon laced hull grew large in the cockpit canopy.

"Well, there's our new home" Pale said. She shook her head. "What a mess, for the hero it's supposed to be it looks like a shithole."

Nessella decided she'd had enough of the academy graduate's complaining. She drilled her with a glare. It took her several seconds to notice. When she did, a look of horror crossed her face and she tried to look away. Nessella kept glaring. Pale's mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. Cage looked sympathetic, but out of the corner of her eye Nessella saw him give a thumb's up.

She kept glaring until the Raptor came to a halt inside the flight pod and shut down its main engines. Only then did she stop and look around at the hangar pod's interior.

From there the elevator lowered the through the airlock. There was no formal greeting when they got off the raptor, which surprised Nessella. She'd assumed the new XO and third in command would at least be greeted by the commander. Instead a squad of marines and an hour of additional security screenings met them. By the time they arrived in the CIC she was growing infuriated.

"What the frak was that for back there?" Cage wondered.

"We'll find out now, I guess" Nessella said, as a marine opened the door.

The CIC had its full complement of officers. A lone figure stood at the tactical table in the center, with the commander's pips on his epaulletes. "XO on deck!" a marine lieutenant announced. Huxton looked up and Nessella recognized him from his distinctive black goatee and full moustache. She saluted sharply. Cage and Pale did likewise. Huxton walked up and spent several seconds looking them over.

"Welcome aboard the battlestar _Vindication_" he finally said. "I suppose you'll be wondering why I put you through an hour of additional security checks?" Nessella nodded. He addressed her directly. "Because, colonel, nine colonial warships have been successfully bombed since hostilities ended, I have no intention to let this ship be the tenth."

"Permission to speak freely" Nessella said.

"Granted."

"Sir, the security systems on the station were upgraded three days ago. If we were carrying any explosive device they would have picked it up."

He shook his head. "Its always good to make sure." He walked over to Pale. "Lieutenant Erion Pale, graduate of Picon fleet academy I believe?"

Pale nodded. "Sir." Her brow furrowed.

"You are a GP officer, but your specialty is navigation, we will put that to good use. Let me assure you that if you survive these next three years you will get that promotion up the career ladder you came here for."

"Yes sir." She saluted again and left. Huxton smirked at her back.

"I can't stand academy career officers," he muttered.

"Are you holding a grudge, sir?" Nessella asked. He gave her a withering stare.

"What makes you think that?"

Nessella had been debating whether or not to explain for fear of her position, but she decided to. "You were turned down at the Picon fleet academy at eighteen, so you joined the fleet as a deckhand on a _Scorpion_ patrol cutter." Huxton's predatory smile reminded her of that of an Aquarian lionshark's.

"I see you have read my bio, Lieutenant Colonel. The answer is yes; yes I am holding a grudge." He turned back to her. She braced herself. "Lieutenant Colonel Amelie Nessella. Recruited into the ROTC program from her native Tauron and worked her ways up the ranks from there. Served with distinction aboard the heavy cruiser _Abaddon_ during the coup, until that ship was destroyed with eighty percent fatalities at the second battle of Canceron. Had one cousin in the service, a National Guardsman lieutenant, who died in the catastrophe over the Hau'tharan subcontinent, along with ten million others." Cage's jaw dropped. Nessella tried to hold back the glare, but it came through.

Her voice shook with the effort it took to contain her hostility to him. "You would know that, sir." Huxton nodded.

"I hope you display this much aggression when we go into combat, because if you are as smart as the reports say, you'd be a damn good XO." He paused. She remained glaring at him. "Yes, I would know about your cousin personally. I suppose you are wondering if I felt any regret from when Commander Hadrian and I ordered the _Vindication_ to destroy the heavy cruiser _Tauthlin_ and her wreckage plunged into Tauron's atmosphere over Hau'tharan." She nodded, rage filling her. His formal expression softened to one of sympathy. "Yes I do. But the _Tauthlin_ was about to launch nuclear missiles at twenty major cities. Commander Hadrian, gods rest him, and I made a choice, and I will never take it back."

Nessella knew from the countless hours she had spent pouring over data and accounts first and secondhand from the battle that almost a billion Taurons-including her unle and aunt-would have died if the _Vindication_ hadn't opened fire. She understood Huxton's actions completely. She was still angry with him, and furious at being assigned to this battlestar, of every ship in the fleet. Nothing would change that. Huxton stepped in and lowered his voice.

"I head you were one of the best, to the point Commander Hadrian considered you instead of me. I look forward to seeing what you can do, dismissed Lieutenant-Colonel, get acclimated."

"Sir." Nessella took a step back and put a hand on her bags. Then she changed her mind. "Sir, requesting permission to commence duties immediately."

Huxton nodded approvingly and pointed to the XO station. "Permission granted, welcome aboard." As she went to her station and dropped her bags, he turned to address Cage.

**Present Day:**

Nessella's thoughts returned to the present day as she sat on her bed, the water running off her towel gradually soaking her sheets. She'd spaced out after getting out of the shower following her workout with Ensigns Pask and Lairon, and Lieutenant Traye. Now she was cold and shivering. Quickly she dressed herself, then sat down on the overstuffed armchair she'd bought during shore leave on Libran two years ago and perused her waist high book case. She pulled out a copy of Colonial Military Disasters and began reading.

Her thoughts kept returning to her arrival on the _Vindication_. She and Huxton had grown friendly over the three years of her commission, and Cage had become a balancing point between the two of them. When their tours had been up and they were reassigning, Huxton had requested they, and the rest of his bridge crew, stay onboard. Nessella cherished that memory.

The loudspeakers abruptly crackled to life. "Colonel Nessella to the CIC, Colonel Nessella to the CIC." Nessella sighed and put her book away. She took out her radio and found the general officer's channel.

"Nessella to the CIC, I'm on my way."

**Note: The Battlestar/Warstar Titan was created by VFXAUS for his youtube video The Battle of Helios Delta 6**


	20. E5 part 2

**Slammer:**

Knight squadron hung in space a kilometer above the cylon boreshaft while _Serpentia _CAG Amory Tovin, callsign Vole, gave his orders over the general fighter wing radio channel. "Cross and myself will escort Borealis in. Blue squadron will fly CAP. Everyone else return to the barn for resupply. Don't get cozy, we're still in hostile territory."

Cross emerged from around the _Serpentia_'s bulbous nose in a Mark II viper. "Can he even do that?" Hornet wondered on squadron channel in his twangy Canceron accent as Cross cruised towards them. A Mark VII flew up alongside and a Raptor fell in behind them.

"Who and what?" Slammer asked.

Several pilots snickered. Hornet sighed. "Fly a gods damn Mark Deuce on a combat mission. Aren't we designating those as trainers as soon as everyone has a full complement of sevens?"

Cross chimed in. His voice was worn with age and had a distinctive rasp to it, but still projected authority. "Yes I can Hornet. If you would recall correctly I have over two hundred kills in the deuce. No more chit chat, maintain radio silence and return to the barn."

"Yes sir, sorry sir" Hornet said." Slammer aimed his nose at the _Serpentia_ and fired his thrusters. The squadron and scouting party intersected, with Vole passing so close to Slammer he could read his serial number off his fuselage.

"What if you need help?" Slammer asked.

"If we run into trouble down there I doubt there's anything you could do" Cross replied. Slammer strained around in his seat to watch the triangle of red light from his thrusters. "Good luck Cross," he said.

**Nessella:**

The bridge was almost deserted when Nessella arrived. Captain Kepler was on watch, though his boredom was reflected by his blank eyed stare at the empty DRADIS. Grissom had pulled up a chair at the tactical table and lain out a star chart. His nose was practically pressed to to as he plotted something out with a pencil and a compass. He was still working on locating Simon's other four cylon locations, a daunting challenge thanks to his incredibly vague directions. Marlay was sitting at her station, her hair wild and a sheet of paper in one hand.

"Acting Commander on deck!" one of the marines guarding the door announced. All three officers snapped to attention. Kepler and Grissom slowly sank back into their previous positions. Marlay strode over and held out a piece of paper. Nessella took a look at the grimace on her face and braced herself.

"What are we dealing with, Captain?"

"A Message from the President." Nessella was relieved it wasn't something worse. She took it and read it:

_Office of the President of the Colonial Remnant:_

_ I am requesting permission to come aboard on urgent business. I will give my reasons on an encrypted comm channel only._

_ President Johnathan Travere_

Nessella sighed and considered his message. She was fully aware of Travere's importance in holding the fleet together. However, Huxton had only authorized Presidential visits when he was aboard. "Send the _Athenian_ a reply on frequency three-eight-kobal-six-two. Inform him that Admiral Huxton is aboard the _Serpentia _and will remain there until the _Vinny_ is operational. If he wishes to hold his weekly meeting two days early, he will have to wait for her to return."

"Yes Ma'm." Marlay typed out the reply. "Nothing like dumping your problems on someone else, eh?" she said out of the corner of her mouth.

Nessella's ears burned at that and she glared at her"Excuse me captain, what did I just hear?"

Marlay froze for an instant, then quickly replied "nothing, ma'm." chastened, she resumed typing.

"Good, exactly what I thought I heard." Nessella shook her head and walked away. With the time off everyone was starting to relax and slip up. The fact that a quarter of their crew were civilians and there were two thousand more cramming up the ship and interacting with the crew was not helping. Their marine commander and acting commandant Colonel Arvak had thrown four crewmen and a marine in the brig in the past week.

"Colonel, his reply is coming through." Nessella walked back over and watched the paper print out. Marlay snatched it up and handed it to her. She read it and her jaw dropped. "So he wants to see the cylon prisoner? Don't answer that captain, that was rhetorical." Marlay nodded and gulped down the reply she'd been thinking of.

"Seems to be the case, colonel."

"Notify him that the cylon is a military prisoner, he will need Huxton's authorization to visit him." Marlay did so.

Travere replied that he would wait then. Nessella sat down at her station and brought up the latest supply reports.

"Aren't you off duty?" Mirra asked.

"I am, but as long I'm up here I might as well do a full systems check, to make sure everything's in order." She began reviewing the quartermaster's latest statement on their provisions. Her free hand involuntarily rose to twirl a loose strand of hair that had fallen out of her bun. After a few second of reading the numbers she grabbed her radio and found the quartermaster's channel. "Chief Petty Officer Jenson, this is Colonel Nessella."

It was nearly a minute before Jenson responded. "I am here, Ma'm," he said.

"I am reviewing the latest survey of the ship's stores. Can you verify it?"

There was a rush of static as Jenson sighed. "Yes I can, ma'm. At the current rate of sonsumption we have seventy-two days until our stores are empty." Nessella shook her head. There had to be more than that.

"What about the other ships?"

"I checked, we resupplied half of em'. Everyone has roughly the same amount of food and the gardens are taking too long, plus we don't even have any room onboard for our own."

"Reduce rations to two-third size." She had bought another month, at the cost of her crew's morale and stability. They would slowly lose faith in her leadership as their skin loosened around their bones and their children became thin shadows of their former selves.

"Yes Ma'm."

Nessella shut down the link and dropped the radio to her desk. It made a bang as plastic connected with metal. The three other officers looked up in confusion then returned to their duties. Nessella sighed, and resumed her work with a weight of dread crushing down on her.

**Cross:**

Cross brought his viper to a halt six hundred meters inside the cylon boreshaft, and one hundred meters from the titanic tangle of metallic tentacles and cybernetics that blocked their path. "Well I've never seen this before" he said as his eyes followed the twisting tentacles of metal inwards until they wrapped around the basestar and became a solid mass with the Y-shaped prongs of a basestar emerging from its top. The mass seemed to be moving, the running lights along its sides flickering intermittently, its tentacles wriggling just enough to catch Cross' eye but not enough to convince him. The entire scene stood his hair on end.

Vole seemed slightly discouraged. "What about in the first war?"

Cross drudged up his old memories. "The cylons had asteroid bases and the like sure as hell. They'd tunnel a shaft like this, except we'd be flying between rows of raiders hangars right now. This is new to me."

Borealis broke in. "I am beginning sensor sweep." The Raptor's DRADIS profile abruptly doubled in intensity as Borealis' copilot diverted additional power to overclocking its sensor array. "I am starting with RADAR and working my ray to the emission spectrum and across." For several minutes Borealis and her copilot went through every emission spectrum and frequency. "Minor amounts of radiation are being given off." Huxton tensed. "There's also an interesting infared profile. _Serpentia_-actual, are you seeing this?"

"Raptor zero one four, we see everything you're seeing, and it doesn't make much sense," Mirra said.

The Raptor's profile returned to normal. "Sensor sweep complete, we've scanned this cave with everything we can."

Mirra spoke again. "Scout group, return to the barn and resupply. Raptor zero one four, jump back to the fleet and relay your information to the _Vindication_, the cylon probably has an answer."

"Right, let's get out of here" Vole said. Cross waited until the raptor had about faced before flipping his viper over and burning back to the battlestar.

**Huxton:**

The cylon installation's emission profile sat on Huxton's computer. He and Mirra tried to make sense of it, to no avail. "The thing is almost thirty-five hundred degrees farenheit at the center" Mirra noted. The center of the construct was a white ball of heat, and the arms linking it to the tunnel walls were a duller red.

"Radiation output matches that of a high-efficiency nuclear reactor," Huxton noted. "It could be we're looking at an exhaust port for something bigger. Commander, is your engineering chief looking at this?"

"She is." Mirra contacted her by radio and exchanged a few words. "She says there's not enough radiation output for it to be an exhaust port-for any rector we know of at least. I'm going to launch a flight of raptors to scour the rest of this rock for another entrance port."

"Good idea commander lets see it." She smiled at the faint praise, and turned to Meironara.

**Radin:**

Radin was sitting in the backseat of one of the _Hephasteus_' repair launches. The bumblebee striped small craft was essentially a raptor whose powerful main thrusters had been replaced by twenty much smaller engines for precision maneuvering and whose weapon mounts had been converted into power tool mounts and a pair of industrial claw arms. Radin's job was to guide the civilian pilot in repairing a gaping crack running lengthwise down the pod.

Kelso chose the moment to cut in. "Hey, repair-one, how many toasters does it take to fix a battlestar pod?"

"None repair-two, they wouldn't" Radin replied dourly. The _Hephasteus_' other three repair launches were floating around the blackened stump of the hangar pod's forward extension arm, repairing and modifying it so it could fit on the _Vindication_. Two more launches from the other flattop were working on the intact aft arm. Radin had left the other ships in the fleet understaffed with dedicated engineers to get the _Vindication_ operational again, resulting in several other ships both military and civilian being left in their damaged states.

"Okay then, colonel. The answer would have been how many you needed to melt down" Kelso replied. Several other engineers guffawed. Radin ignored them.

The repair launch abruptly jolted, dragging the lit end of the plasma torch for several meters across the metal hull. Radin grabbed the pilot by the shoulders best he could. "Watch it Bram! We're near a ruptured fuel valve," he hissed.

Bram gritted his teeth and adjusted. "Sorry chief, the nav computer on this thing needs to be rebooted."

"Do it as soon as we get back then." Radin glared at his hands, which were wrapped in black gloves. Half of the finger slots were empty. He should be the one fluidly piloting the repair raptor, he was certified to do it.

Bram finished patching the crack up and fired the launch's dozen maneuvering thrusters. He lifted them forty meters up and came ot a stop. Radin examined the hangar pod over his shoulder. Its grey skin was gunmetal grey, the pain having been worn off by forty years of exposure to micrometiorites and radiation. The crack they had patched was now a seam of glittering sodder metal, one of a dozen that crisscrossed the hull. Beneath its surface the pod's framework was cracked from missile impacts and the final blast that had destroyed the _Columbia_. That was where the majority of engineers and available scrap metal were going.

"How long do you think this is going to take?" Gram asked.

"The estimate I gave to the admiral was six weeks, but that was just to keep him happy." Gram nodded sympathetically. Over or estimating construction time was a common practice in colonial engineering. "In reality, though, I think it's going to be about ten weeks before we can hook her up to the _Vinny_."

"That's a long time."

"It is, unfortunately." Radin checked their air meter: they still had two hours of O2 left. "Alright, lets get that valve shut now." In the upper right corner of the canopy, he saw a blue flare and a raptor appear on the edge of the fleet.

**Nessella:**

Nessella was roused out of her twenty minutes of depressed report browsing by a broadcast from Borealis claiming to have data for the cylon to analyze. Marlay printed it up and Nessella radioed the team guarding Simon. "Colonel to the brig. Bring the cylon down to the interrogation room. Get Doctor Parris down there too." She walked down.

When she arrived Simon was chained to the table and the lie detector was wrapped around him. She studied his terrified expression curiously. He begged, "Colonel, do we really have to do this? Can you give me a chair at least?" I made a bargain with you.

"Prove we can trust you first" Nessella said. "You're a cylon and a traitor, that's two strikes against you."

"How?" Nessella thought about it, briefly.

"I don't know, you maybe its because you helped wipe out our civilization, if I wasn't such a nice person you'd be a hunk of scorched meat right now. Now, I have something for you to look at." Simon nodded fervently. She held up the two pages of data and images. "This is at the coordinates zero four two one eight three nine nine four two zero one, one of the sets you gave us."

"I know that." He read it over. "I have an idea, I know I visited what you are looking at, I just can't remember it." His eyelids squeezed shut in concentration. "That heat signature, I asked a question on it when I was there."

"Hurry up on the remembering, our fleet is depending on you."

He rolled his eyes. "Should I care?"

"The fact that you agreed to help us shows you do. Now lets hear it." Her words had the desired effect on his conscience and he drew back, defeated.

"Okay, I'm working on remembering it but theres some kind of block there, I can't explain it, can you shock me?"

Nessella was confused by this request. "Shock you? As in pump a few hundred volts through your chains?" He nodded. She pointed at Doctor Parris. He nodded and flipped a switch. Nessella backed up a step as the chains began to buzz.

Simon flailed as electricity coursed through him. His eyes bulged; he bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming. When it stopped he collapsed, chest ehaving. "Simon?" Nessella asked.

"Here" he said weakly. Then he smiled. "I remember it. That's a shipyard you're looking at." Nessella looked at the picture Borealis had taken.

"He's telling the truth," Parris said. He'd recalibrated the lie detector yesterday with help from the civilian biologist.

Simon opened his mouth again. "What you're seeing is a basestar under construction. A frame is placed in one of those tunnels, and molten metal is pumped into it. IWe don't worry about constructing the interios because it forms naturally."

"How?" Nessella asked.

"Because the basestar is partially organic" Parris said to her surprise. Simon's eyes widened, then he nodded.

"I don't remember, but that makes sense."

Nessella was still confused. "It does not, explain your theory doctor." Parris's thin lips and craggy face became a smile of satisfaction at figured out this piece of information.

"When we were at Aquaria we detonated five nuclear missiles in the center of the cylon reinforcement fleet to disrupt their electronics with the EMP, which is what happened. The problem is that EMPs are not effective in space because the electricity needs a medium to be transmitted through, something Huxton did not know. Those missiles were set to emit neutrinos by mistake. Neutrinos don't affect electronics, only organics."

It took Nessella a moment to understand the science behind his logic. "You make sense Doctor, good thinking." Then to Simon: "thank you for your help Simon, anything else on this?" He shook his head, then let out a jagged gasp and closed his eyes. For an instant Nessella felt a pang of sympathy for him. "How do we destroy this?"

"Easy, you put a couple missiles down the tunnel, the shipyard infrastructure doesn't extend very far beneath the surface."

"Again, thank you. Doctor, get him back to his cell." Two marines began unchaining Simon, who offered no resistance. Parris handed Nessella a flash drive.

"This is the recording" he explained.

She nearly ran back to the bridge so she could relay the information.

**Huxton:**

In thirty minutes the search teams had found eight more tunnels branching off the main crater. Huxton eyes meanwhile rapidly flickered between his officers and DRADIS, expecting a fleet of basestars to be closing on them. At every moment He could see the _Serpentia_'s bridge crew doing the same.

A single raptor flashed into existence a hundred and sixteen kilometers directly above the _Serpentia _and burned towards her. "Transmission inbound" Lirallis said.

"Put them on speaker" Mirra said.

"_Serpentia _actual, this is raptor zero two two callsign Rango, we have vital information from _Vindication_-actual, requesting permission to transmit then jump out."

"Granted." They listened to the interrogation. Huxton was surprised by Simon's answer. He felt a slight unease at the thought of a basestar being 'grown', flowing together like what they were witnessing. "Well that explains a bit" Mirra said.

"It does, but it doesn't change our objective" Huxton said.

"It doesn't." Mirra pointed to Anjen. "I am ordering an Atlatl fire mission in all launchers. Assign three missiles to each shipyard, fire until all targets are eliminated."

Anjen nodded. "Ma'm."

The _Serpentia_'s twenty-four waist mounted atlatl launchers fired a volley. The missiles fanned out over the crater and dove on their targets. Four basestars burst, showering several million tons of molten metal on their drydock's infrastructure. Three more were damaged. Inside the _Serpentia_ the front of the missile tube sealed shut and its back slid open, revealing a conveyor track. Cranes operated by men and women in white firesuits slowly lowered a second titanic missile onto the track, which carried it into the tube. The tube sealed itself and the launcher's targeting computer connected to the missile's relatively small one, quickly calculating a parabolic flight path into the next tunnel. The _Serpentia_'s targeting computer made sure all launchers were loaded then sent the fire signal.

The launchers reopened and the missiles fired their engines. A magnetic coil inside the launcher accelerated it out of its tube where its engines took over, propelling it along it flight path. The entire process took fifteen seconds. The second salvo left only one shipyard alive.

On the bridge, a shrill beeping announced new arrivals on DRADIS. "Three basestars and fifteen support ships just jumped in, range is twenty-thousand kilometers. Time to firing range is forty-five seconds," Lirallis announced. The basestar's DRADIS sinatures blossomed as they launched raiders.

Mirra turned to Huxton. "Admiral, are we running?" Huxton calculated the odds and quickly came up with a plan.

He shook his head. "No, we have the advantage."

Mirra was worried. "Admiral, we do?"

"Yes we do. Follow me." Mirra nodded.

"They are moving to surround us" Lirallis warned. One basestar group was coming straight in. One had moved to either side. BSG-2 would be in a killbox when they got in range.

Mirra st her jaw and repled fiercely "I see them, launch, all vipers. Designate basestars starboard to port Towers One through Three. Admiral, what's the plan?"

Huxton had on. "Pull our support ships close around us in escort formation delta-four, and put us on vector delta gamma karom oh three nine, sprinting acceleration."

"Done" Anjen said. The _Serpentia_ aligned its nose with a point just portside of Tower Three and her engineers, working manually because her automated fuel pumps had been disabled, diverted full power to her engines. She charged ahead, the supports forming an arrowhead around her with her nose as the point. So great was her acceleration that Huxton felt a slight, inexorable dragging as it overwhelmed the internal inertial dampeners. Red lights flared across the engineering consoles. She could maintain her sprint for five minutes before the uranium-238 fuel rods in her reactor began to melt the structure around them.

"Bandits inbound dead ahead, ETA forty secodns, at our rate of acceleration they'll only be able to make one pass, so we should be-" Meironara was cut off by the ticking of a radiological alarm. "Scratch that, they've got multiple nukes!"

Mirra seemed to panic. Huxton narrowd his eyes at her. "Keep calm and _think_" he whispered to her.

She nodded and spoke. "Major, set flack batteries to maximium range. Initiate one atlatl fire mission, one salvo directly at the raiders."

The raider formation was punctured by flak fire, and then pounded by forty-eight kilotons of TNT. The radiological alarm went silent. The two formations passed through each other. The deck rocked as several raiders slammed into the _Serpentia_'s bow.

"Explosive decompression is imminent in sector one, compartment eight!" Meironara warned.

"Colonel, take command of damage control" Mirra said coolly.

"Yes ma'm" he moved one station over and put on a headset. Mirra watched their fleet close on the basestar group. It was aiming straight for them. The other two groups were attempting to close the distance between them, but the _Serpentia_ would beat them into range by a large margin.

"We are in gun range," Anjen said. "Permission to send them to hell?"

Mirra looked at Huxton. Huxton nodded. "Fire port and topside batteries full AP load, support ships go one on one with a counterpart." The deck thrummed with the comforting impact of the main guns. The basestar shuddered under the first salvo. Two of its return missiles made it through the flak field and detonated against the alligator head and port flight pod, but did little to slow the charging battlestar. The _Serpentia_'s second salvo severed one of the basestar's arms. Her third put a series of holes in the midsection. Her supports; two light cruisers, a medium cruiser, and two battlecruisers faired even worse. They winked off DRADIS one by one in a series of violent decompressions.

"Adjust course to avoid the debris field and decelerate us to flank speed" Mirra said. As they passed the basestar, their guns delivered one final salvo into its midsection.

"We hit their reactors" Anjen said. Behind them the basestar became a supernova for an instant, then a cloud of minute particles. He punched the air, Mirra beamed.

"There's still two out there" Huxton warned. "Bring us around to face them, they'll be in range in twenty seconds. Our supports and vipers are to form a line twenty kilometers out to keep their supports busy." They felt a slight tug as they came around to aim at the two oncoming basestars, who had come alongside each other.

"We're holding here I guess?" Mirra asked. Huxton nodded.

"Right, bow guns target Tower One. Port batteries target Tower Two."

The cylon fleet entered range and began launching missiles. Their support wings collided with BSG-2 sixty-three seconds later. The colonial cruisers were more than capable of holding them off. The _Serpentia_ shook with repeated missile hits, but meironara's direction was exceptional, and she held.

Tower One absorbed five salvoes from the bow guns before it lost structural integrity and collapsed on itself. Tower Two wavered under a merciless barrage for another minute before disintegrating. The last cylon support ship vanished seconds later, levign Vole and Cross to clean up the scattered raiders.

"We're clear" Anjen reported. Huxton nodded. Mirra had the look of a first-time victor on her face; radiant with surprise and awe.

"How's the barn holding up Meironara?" Mirra asked.

Meironara scowled. "Our nose is a mess and there's a fire in sector eight, but we're still in fighting shape, though I wouldn't recommend another engagement."

"That's good enough for now. Admiral, awaiting orders."

Huxton checked DRADIS. The shipyards were gone and only a few scattered raiders remained opposing them. "Prepare for an FTL jump back to the fleet, set the clock to five minutes. Lets not test our luck by sticking around."

Lirallis typed in a few commands and took the microphone. Her voice rang over the loudspeakers. "Five minutes mark, five minutes."

"Admiral, luck?" Mirra asked. The vipers sped back to the hangar pods. The cruisers realigned themselves in a pentagon formation around the _Serpentia_.

Huxton nodded. "There could have been eight basestars or more, or a cylon infiltraitor could have hit us in combat and disabled us."

"Sir, you really think there's an imitation onboard?" Anjen asked.

Huxton groaned. "Naivety there, major. There are four known models and three unknown, assuming our lie detector works. Until we identify those three anyone in the fleet is a suspect, even I am."

"Sorry, sir, but how?"

"Why, they could have deleted my memories, or brainwashed me as a sleeper agent, same with you, or anyone else." Anjen nodded. They waited in silence until the clock reached zero. Lirallis turned the key.

"Jump initiated," she said. Huxton felt a fain tingling, then a small spark of electricity. Then the planetoid was replaced with a vew of the _Gehennia_. Now that they were home, Huxton relaxed a little. He waited for Mirra to finish directing the ship back into formation, then walked over and patted her on the shoulder.

"That was some good work back there, Commander, and your staff too. Consider yourselves no longer trainees, I think three basestars qualifies you as colonial command officers." .Meironara smiled. Lirallis, a former ensign, blushed, Anjen, originaly a gunnery mate, stood up. Mirra smiled and nodded, then ran a hand through her thick wavy brown hair.

"Message from the _Vindication_" Lirallis said.

Huxton pointed at her. "Lets hear it."

"President Travere is insisting on seeing the cylon prisoner. The prescense of Admiral Huxton is requested onboard the _Vindication_ as soon as possible."

Huxton groaned. "Notify Colonel Nessella I will be onboard in fifteen, prep a raptor."

"Yes sir.

It took Huxton fourteen minutes and eight seconds to reach the raptor, and transfer between the _Serpentia_ and the _Largos_. During the flight, he was treated to a view of the _Athenian_ docked alongside the much larger drydock.

**Alenko:**

Alenko was doubled over, out of breath and sporting several fresh bruises. "You're getting there, you almost head me that last time" he gasped to Venko, who was collapsed on the floor where Alenko had dropped him.

Venko struggled to sit upright. "Thanks Sarge." Alenko straightened up and wiped the sweat off his brow with an arm aching with exhaustion. He and Venko had clashed forty times during their two hours of sparring, and he had won every time. Venko put one hand on a left foot shaped bruise over his ribcage. "Lets hope we get those pads in soon, I'd like not to get killed by you."

"You should have given up twenty matches ago" Alenko said. He pulled on his tank top. Venko shook his head

"Would you have?"

That stopped Alenko. "No" he admitted. Venko nodded, _I told you so, sarge_.

They wre fully dressed and ready to hobble out when Alenko felt a tap on his shoulder. He

Spun around-and found himself looking at Detective Johm. "Hello officer" he held out his hand.

To his surprise, Johm brushed it aside. "Sorry Tom-" Venko raised his eyebrows- "no time, I need a little help with something that officials can't handle." His normally jolly face was twisted with anger.

Alenko took tht as a bad sign. "What's the problem?"

"There's a couple of people down in barrack Sixteen with a couple of smuggled guns and Ha'La'Tha memberships."

Alenko gave him his complete attention. "Ha'La'Tha, how do you know?"

"They have the oath swearing tattoos, I know this, I've arrested a few of these frackers over the years. I'd do something but they have guns from somewhere" and he held up his empty hands. "My service revolver got confiscated in the brig."

Alenko nodded. He honestly didn't know what the proper course of action was. He'd been trained to fight armies, not do police work, so he decided to follow Johm. "Give me and Venko ten minutes to change up and arm up, then we'll come."


	21. E5 Part 3

**Huxton:**

Huxton stepped off the Raptor into the drydock's cavernous hangar bay. He gave her crew a thumb's up over his shoulder and walked to Nessella, who was waiting for him in front of the exit. She saluted as he approached. He returned it, and wondered why she still bothered with the formalities when none of the dozen engineers tending the shuttles and light craft were looking over their shoulders.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "How was the hunting, Hux? I heard you found some baby basestars."

Huxton snorted and nodded. "Ah, good use of humor, har har har."

"Thank you, coming form you that means something."

Huxton sighed. "There were nine of those shipyards, plus three basestar groups that jumped in when we were bombing them."

"How many people did we lose?" Nessella asked. Behind them there was a low whine as the raptor was raised back into the airlock.

Huxton had been radioed a casualty report on the way over, at his insistence. "The entire battlegroup lost fifty-one dead and ninety injured, we're still waiting on reports from the scout ships."

"Did you get the basestars?"

Huxton smiled triumphantly. "All of them, plus the shipyards, that's something we can say our people died for, hey?" Nessella nodded. "Good job getting that information so quickly, Amy, we could've been out there a lot longer."

"Thank you. How's the Commander turning out?"

"Mirra is turning out better than I hoped. Once she stopped her senseless worrying she showed me she's very competent. I'm glad it was her who survived."

"That's good to hear, matches up with my inspection." Nessella got a wicked look on her face. "How is the _Serpentia_? Must feel different not being on your old girl."

"You go too far," Huxton moaned. "That battlestar was designed by a computer-loving fool. Her crew by now know what they are doing, the ship just runs so poorly without her computers networked that they have to jury rig half the active systems to work right. Plus, there's the bridge…" Nessella rolled her eyes. "She hits harder than the _Vinny,_ but had a fool for a chief designer."

They turned and walked across the _Largos_' hangar and into the long collapsable hallway connecting it to the _Vindication_. He checked to make sure they were alone, and then took Nessella's pale hand in his slightly darker one a warm tingling started in his palms and ran through his fingers. She smiled at him, and put her head on his shoulder. He recalled a discussion they'd had a while back in his quarters.

_"Ordinary couples make out in very public places and go on dates to fancy locations. We hide everything we do together beyond our official duties and sucking the admirality's dicks so they don't investigate any of the the other infractions of protocol on this ship." Amy said, and burst into childish giggles. Huxton gave her a moment, and then resumed kissing her for several seconds. _

_ "When the cylons and pirates attack ordinary couples join the masses caught up in fear or dead on a casualty figure. We go into the furnace of war against them to save the colonies." He replied. _

"You got my message about the President?" Nessella asked, shattering his thoughts. He fumbled for a response.

"Yes, yes I did, I suppose I'll speak with him ASAP." They reached the airlock and stopped, lingering on this little moment of privacy.

Nessella recognized Huxton's blank stare. "What were you just thinking about?"

He grunted "us, in happier times." She pulled him around to face her and took his other hand. He spent a long moment gazing down at her. Her skin had lost its radianceand her eyes had sunken since that conversation. Her smile had faded into her pale face and she had faded like a painting.

"When were these happier tims?"

"Six months, on the night of my birthday." Her expression brightened. His soured as he lived through the memory again. "Why did I say happier times? That hangover took a week to wear off, I swear."

"Because back then we could afford to drink that hard" Nessella replied, then kissed him. He held it and shut his eyes. Her lips were like wet silk against his. They heard the door behind them open, and stepped apart. Huxton looked back and saw two engineers in their green uniforms walking towards them. He nodded to the stocky one with long black hair and bandaged hands.

Radin and Kelso saluted. "Colonel, how's the pod transplant looking?" Nessella asked.

Kelso opened the door. The whine of a power lifter and several shouting voices wafted through. Radin grunted. "Like you'd imagine it would look like If you pulled an arm off a bomb blast victim to use as a transplant, pardon my half-assed analogy Admiral and Nessella. The point is. There's enough cracks in that thing that we'll need at least metric a ton of scrap metal to seal them all."

"Well that's one thing there's a surplus of, for better or for worse" Huxton replied. "Is the timeframe still six weeks?"

Radin stopped in the doorway. "No, its ten weeks now, the structure is worse than I thought." Huxton's heart sank at the thought of the _Vindicaiton_ being out of action for that long. He took the door from Kelso and held it for Nessella. They stepped inside the _Vindication_'s remaining hangar pod. It had been mostly repaired by now, though two crewmen were operating the sixteen foot wheeled power lifter to patch a few remaining secondary structure supports in the ceiling.

Huxton waited until they got to the far side, then took Nessella aside. "Send Travere aboard, I'll wait for him here. Bring me up a squad of marines as an honor guard."

Nessella looked at him quizzically. "You're not going to let him see Simon, are you?"

Huxton vigorously shook his head. "No, of course not. I just would to explain that to him in person."

"Got it." She jogged of towards the bridge. Huxton leaned against the wall and watched the repair effort. His eyes moved off down the row of ten Mark II and twenty Mark VII vipers that was currently the _Vindication_'s total fighter complement. Five minutes in six marines marched through the door.

"Lieutenant Thompson, lets go" Huxton greeted their leader. They marched to the airlock. Soon after there was a click as the bolt slid open, and the thick steel door swung open. Huxton stepped in front of it. Three marines lined up on either side, MIR-19 assault rifles held to their chests. Johnathan Travere stepped out alone. Huxton tensed, wondering what Travere was planning. His outfit hadn't changed since their last meeting a week ago, or since they had first met. However, he now sported a short beard. He stood perfectly straight, but Huxton saw his body sagging around the edges from strain, in his slumped shoulders and wrinkles. There was also a bulge under his jacket.

Huxton kept his face blank and held out his hand. "Mr. President."

Johnathan shook it and tried to speak in a relaxed manner. "Admiral, you are looking like you have a battlestar on your shoulders." Huxton didn't smile.

"As do you, Mr. President. The handgun is a new touch." Johnathan patted the bulge.

"I started carrying it after a Tauron nut assaulted me with a crowbar three days ago."

"What? Why didn't you notify me? I could arrange a security detail for you-"

"Its covered, I've got ten of my crew watching me and I'm not exactly a pushover." He smiled mirthfully. Both knew that a security detail would give Huxton an opening to control Johnathan.

"Did you find out what he wanted?" If there was a gang operating in the fleet, wrecking everything they were trying to build for their own selfish criminal desires, Huxton would personally execute them.

Johnathan nodded and scowled. "The asshole was a political student from the university of Tauron-major. He claimed that I was an Andarean power seeker who needed to be removed so the proper Quorum of the twelve and separation of the colonies could be reinstated. He's sitting in the brig telling the guards they can't hold him because my government has no authority." He rolled his eyes. "That bloated beauraucracy is the last thing we need."

Huxton nodded. "We can agree on something then."

"First thing since Aquaria, second maybe. Lets have a party." Both men smiled for an instant: a shared moment of laughter.

"What exactly did he mean by separation of the colonies?"

Johnathan smiled. "Oh, that, I'm ignoring any preexisting regional legislation in favor of the colonial code of laws, and breaking down inter colonial barriers. There's not enough of us left to divide ourselves into twelve groups." Huxton feintd a salute, to Johnathan's deciciveness.

"That's the second thing we agree on, we may be getting somewhere." His mood dampened when hee thought about the reports on the civilian population. "You know that there will be violence if you tell everyone their colonial heritage means nothing, which is how a lot of them are going to take it."

For a moment there was fire in Johnathan's eyes. Then it retreated, leaving the weary, unassuming man behind. "Let them come. If It gets too bad I'll call you for help, that's all I can say. Now, I am here to see the cylon you captured."

"Sorry John, I can't show you him," Huxton said.

Johnathan glared at him. Huxton returned it. "Why the frack not? Remember what happened last time you kept information on the cylons from us?"

Huxton growled, "I do, but I've sent you everything we've learned, the most recent reports should be arriving on your ship's computer shortly. The cylon is a level Kobol security hazard. It's smart enough to figure out you're a VIP, I know that. They have no problem killing themselves to get at us, so I'm not risking you going in there just so I have to eject your broken body out an airlock.

Johnathan leaned in until he was inches from Huxton, leaning down on the slightly shorter man. Huxton was not intimidated. "How hard is it to keep one imitation human locked up?"

"Do you remember how the last live one got out? It bent the bars of her cell and killed six armed people in hand to hand. I have a fireteam watching it at all times and an interrogation room, but I can't guarantee your safety, especially if he has a trick or two we've missed so far."

Johnathan sighed and rolled his eyes. "Do you think I am that frail? I don't like your excuses, Admiral I though the military government was subservient to the civilian one?"

Huxton realized he was dragging the discussion topic to ideologies. "Facts are facts; I can't let you see him. If you wish to conduct our weekly meeting two days early I will walk you to the conference room." Johnathan's expression became one of contempt.

"I thought we agreed to work our differences out."

"We did, and we are. There are some things though that are out of your expertise, and given the current situation o f the human race, military expertise takes precedence" Huxton replied.

The fire returned. "Admiral, if we reduce this Colonial Remnant to a military force with a sole genocidal goal, we'll destroy everything it means to be human, we'll become them, but flesh and bone instead of silicon and nanotubes. Please don't let our culture die. Let me see the cylon."

Huxton held his ground. "If the cylon is ever deemed safe, you may see it, until then he's a priority Kobol security risk, I'm sorry" Huxton said. Johnathan took a step back, conceding defeat.

"Very well then Admiral, thank you for having me. I can find my way out." He shut the airlock behind him. Huxton decided to play on the defensive at their next meeting as he walked away, hiding his clenched fists.

Would he let Johnathan speak to the cylon? A quick image of Nessella's reaction if he refused made him decide that eventually he would.

**Five Years Before The Fall**

** Akrin Frost:**

Akrin sat in his leather captain's armchair on the pan-colonial liner _Sfardia_'s bridge, helpless as the colonial light cruiser _Anghar_ closed on it. Fuel was leaking from forty millimeter holes in his triple pod engines, and the two point defense guns he'd mounted on the fish shaped liner's arched back were debris floating in a halo around his dying ship. A cold sweat was dripping down his forehead, and his ands were white knuckled on the grip of his carbine. "Any luck on the FTL?" he asked his engineer.

"Negative, the nav computer reset itself after that last hit, its going to take five minutes to reboot." The red faced man replied.

Akrin sighed. "Then I guess this is it, I'll see you all in Tartarus."

"What do you mean captian?" his navigator asked fearfully through the blood pouring from a crescent shaped gash above her right eye when she'd smashed her head against the FTL computer.

Akrin raised the handgun, careful not to point it at any of his staff. "We've got forty two marines supporting Lord Andareus onboard this ship, including my brother. The crew of the _Anghar_ will execute them upon their capture, and imprison the rest of us for giving them shelter. I come from a family of soldiers, I die a soldier." A proximity alarm warned that the cruiser was within three hundred meters of their hull and opening its docking tube.

The engineer returned his attention to his console. "Yes sir, goodbye sir" he said. Akrin's radio crackled.

"Ake, how's it going up there?" Johnathan Frost asked.

"Not good, we need five to ten minutes to get the FTL online" Akrin replied.

"Then I guess we'll have to hold them for ten. There's almost two hundred marines aboard that ship, do you have anyone else with a gun?" Akrin sighed and closed his eyes, thinking. He couldn't go out there and die, no matter what he was saying, he'd been born to a family of marines, but become a liner captain. His crew was unarmed except him though, and he couldn't stand a life in prison.

"John, only me, I'm coming down there" he said in a shaking voice.

He heard his older brother's booming laugh. "Good to hear that, you can't shoot for shit but I'd rather have you than anyone else. I'll see you." Akrin shut the radio down and stood up. He turned to the engineer. "Trigger the hull breach lockdown procedure, we're going to make them cut through every bulkhead on this ship. As soon as FTL is back online, jump us to Sagittaron."

"What if we're still docked with them?" the engineer asked.

"Then we'll kill them on the way out!" Akrin sprinted out as a new alarm began to sound.

The rebels were bunkered down outside the docking collar, hidden behind haf-walls and overturned furniture when he arrived. All were marines and wore red armbands on their body armor; the symbol of the coming Colonial Empire.

"Welcom along little bro" Johnathan said, and moved over so Akrin could duck behind the row of seats he and two other rebels were using as cover. Half a dozn civillians were cowering behind them.

"Hi." Akrin sat down. "Ten minutes tops, then we're gone" he said. He heard the hiss of melting metal and looked up just in time to see the cold grey metal of the airlock doors begin to shudder as someone on the otherside hacked their computer locks

"Get ready!" Johnathan shouted and raised his assault rifle. Akrin raised his pistol with trembling hands. The door creaked open and his heart leapt into his throat. Two black tubes arced into the foyer. "Flash grenades!" Johnathan and several rebels warned and ducked. Akrin dropped his head just as a supernova of light flared in the center of the room. There was the drumroll of a volley of gunfire and the row of seats shook as bullets pounded it. A woman's shrill scream of pain pierced the din.

Johnathan leapt up and began hosing the charging marines with high explosive rounds. Akrin took a deep breath, then leapt out of cover. The foyer was flashing with muzzleflares from both sides and the different gunshots quickly merged into one stuttering roar. Half a dozen marines were down and bleeding at the airlock door, while more poured. Akrin aimed and pulled the trigger as fast as he could. He was sure he hit at least one. _Their body armor will prevent a pistol round from penetrating_. He switched to the underslung grenade launcher and pulled the trigger. The sidearm _thudded_ and the foyer was rent apart by the blast. Bodies splattered from the explosive force. Blood painted the walls and floor.

"That's the spirit brother!" Johnathan shouted. His weapon clicked empty. He ducked behind cover and reloaded. A grenade flew into the room and Akrin joined him. They popped back up together. "We can hold this!" Johnathan shouted, even though several of his marines were already bleeding on the floor.

Then he lurched backwards, blood spraying from the gap between his chestplate and neck guard.

Five minutes and twenty seconds later the _Sfardia_ was drifting over Sagittaron's mottled green surface, surrounded by the jagged chunks of the _Anghar_ she'd dragged with her into FTL. Akrin was curled up at the foot of the bullet torn row of seats, cradling his dead brother's head in his arms. The fifteen or so rebels left standing were cheering over the shattered remains of the entry foyer and the fifty loyalist marines who had died storming it. The engineer was asking over the intercom if everyone was all right.

Akrin kicked his empty pistol away. "Frack this war" he whimpered

**Present Day: **

** Johnathan Travere:**

Johnathan sat alone in the meeting room after the last of the captains had left. The only thing his last meeting with the quorum had accomplished was create a general consensus that Huxton was an enemy. Which he the admiral hadn't become yet. Johnathan couldn't see anyone equaling him in leading the military anytime soon. The meeting had ended after a barely contained denunciation of the military and its objectives by the Sagittarion freighter captain Aaron Hurst. "What would you do, brother?" he wondered.

Johnathan Frost would have returned to the _Vindication_ and verbally assaultedHuxton until he'd been given permission to pass or been arrested. Maybe that was why Johnathan had taken Andareus' side in the coup, because he'd watched President Adar whittle away at the fleet's capabilities and in general the colony's abilities to react against the ever-present cylons. Maybe that was why he had dragged Akrin with him. Maybe he was wrong, because both brothers were dead now, Johnathan literally, Akrin metaphorically.

Akrin had sold the _Sfardia_ at steal price as soon as he'd docked her above Sagittarron. Using the money he bought himself a new life named after his brother and paid a hacker to sever his connections with the old one as Andareus' brief uprising crashed down following his defeat over the skies of Caprica. He'd picked up the Athenian from a scrap yard using the pocket change he had left over, and taken up the role of the tough no-nonsense captain with experience in government. Now he was running what was left of humanity, opposed the man who had ensured Andareus' defeat.

Johnathan pulled a pack of Sagittaron-rolled cigarettes (illegal for export beyond the colony) from a pocket in his pants, and pulled one of the white filters out with a lighter. He lit it, and took a long drag of the fumes to relax him. His lungs ached, but the pleasant sensation overwhelmed the pain.

"Okay" he whispered to himself. "Huxton's gotten a little better since when you first got yourself elected, but he still doesn't take you seriously, its time to change that." He hunted a pencil and paper out of one of the supply bins arrayed along the walls and set about outlining his plan to confront Huxton under a united leadership.

**Cross:**

Cross finished his extended after-combat examination of the Mark II and patted its fuselage affectionately. "That's a good bird," he said. He walked forwards and placed his hand on the four raiders he had painted onto its hull. His Mark VII currently being salvaged had thirty raiders, forty-eight vipers, and sixteen pirate 'bandits'. It was a cruel twist that he'd killed more of his fellow humans than cylons since the first war had ended. However, he was working on that in his knew bird

He heard the clank of flight boots on metal steadily growing louder and smelled cigar smoke. He turned around to see Slammer and Hornet approaching him. The heavyset, tanned Canceron native Slammer had a thick cigar between his lips. "Didn't we run out of those?" Cross asked, pointing to it. Slamemr smiled.

"We're not that low on supplies yet." He pulled a second one out of his flight jacket's pocket. "Want one? I have a dozen more where that came from." Cross chuckled and pushed it away.

"Do you think I'd last this long if I smoked like you did? I'd have keeled over a decade ago."

Slammer and Hornet smiled. "I thought you had good lineage," the average height, but densely built Hornet said.

"That too, my damn old man took three bullets during his service and ran five miles a day until he was seventy-eight, and croaked at ninety." Cross' hair was white and his skin beginning to show the wrinkles of his age, but he still could move like a marine and had scored perfectly on his last physical.

Slammer and Hornet started examining the Viper, their curiosity piqued by the antique craft. "How's it feel to be back in a Deuce?" Hornet asked.

A smile crossed Cross' face. "Like being home after a long time on the road. This war machine never let me down during my time in her."

Hornet examined the Mark II's cannon mounts from behind his thick, but inexplicably mirrored prescription goggles. "I take it the Deuce is your favorite then?"

Cross shook his head. "Nah, the Mark III is because of them forward-swept wings, but anything with the good old low-tech is home to me." He waved to a pair of orange-clad loaders topping off the line of vipers with a motor cart carrying twenty thousand rounds of ammunition.

"Nice" Hornet said. Cross ran a hand over the viper's faded red and black paint. "We're going to have to see if we can get ahold of some paint for these old birds, say we get them back up to their old glory even if we are going to b using them in trainers-except this one of course."

"I doubt we even have that much" Hornet said. "Personally, I think we should remove it altogether and go with that fresh off the factory look."

Slammer nodded, then remembered Cross' last words. "Except this one, Major? Are you planning on flying a fracking Deuce into battle?"

Cross savored his shock. "Frack yes, tell me why not, this bird is better than the seven in almost every way."

Slammer raised his hands. "I'm not, you're the CAG and the most experienced pilot here, you know best." Cross nodded and smiled.

**Mirra:**

With the fires out and the after-battle check complete, Mirra's adrenaline glands finally stopped pumping. She sighed and put her weight on her station as her body slowed back down to normal. Meironara sat down on a desk next to her. The bridge crew had been running on a high since they had made their combat jump three hours ago, but now that had faded to be replaced with a sluggish creeping exhaustion and headaches from overtaxed brains.

"Well, everything's looking wealthy, pardon my slang Commander."

"Slang pardoned this once." Mirra pushed herself upright and took the intercom mic. "Attention, this is your Commander. Damn good job everyone, you all performed at the level the colonies needs from you as the crew of one of the last battlestars in existence. Your families are smiling at you from wherever you are, thank you." She shut it down. "Well, I think those were our first three kills without the _Vindication_'s support."

"Those are our first three kills without another battlestar at all, we got three at Virgon with the _Triton_ and _Orion_" Meironara reminded her.

Mirra rolled her eyes, smiled and pointed at him. "And that memory is why you are the XO. Thank you."

"How long do you think it's going to be before we find another cylon installation?" Lirallis asked.

"However long it takes to decipher the cylon's directions" Mirra said. "I'd say three weeks." In the meantime, I'm going to be decreasing action station's drills to once every three days. The crew could use a break." A single, long foghorn blast abruptly echoed through the ship over the speakers. That was the shift change bell.

"Remain here for a few minutes, I'm going to review the battle data, see where we can improve" Mirra said. She saw a couple of sour looks out of the corner of her eye. "And tonight, I'll open one of the wine bottles for a little bit of a celebration." Those sour looks vanished. Mirra's thoughts drifted to her family, who she still needed to find a time to visit.

**Alenko:**

"You had better be fracking certain about this, I am not going in and hauling civilian off, making a scene for nothing" Venko said. They waded through the usuall bustling corridor that ran the length of the ship; two marines with their weapons holstered and a man dressed in a tan duster and black fedora; a style that had gone out fifty two years ago

"The Ha'La'Tha has survived the fall, they are on this ship, and they are using arms stamped with the Colonial Marines Insignia, that's worth looking into," Johm said.

Alenko thought about that statement for a moment. "Thay means they somehow got into the main armory, or a marine sold some guns to them, shit!" he realized. Johm nodded. They took a left into the civilian quarters. Alenko stopped and turned to Venko. "Private, if we confirm this double time it back to Arvak's office and report to whoever's on duty, I'll deal with this."

"Yes sir" Venko said.

The civillians had removed the hard military edge of the barracks through their own touches. Alenko had to duck under several clotheslines and decorative banners. In the open 'courtyard' where the main security checkpoint was, a billboard had been put up by taking half a dozen smaller ones off the walls of different barracks and placing them two by three on the wall. The small rectangular security checkpoint was occupied by a group of teenagers smoking crude paper cigarettes. They jumped up when the trio walked past.

"I don't think the smoking age applies anymore, does it?" Venko whispered.

"No, and its not like it mattered before" Johm replied grimly. Venko nodded and mimed rolling one between his lips.

From the checkpoint they turned left and kept going until they were working their way along the outer hull. "Its barrack fifteen, right?" Alenko asked.

"Yes sir" Johm replied.

They reached fifteen, whichw as the clasest barracks to thick bulkhead that divided the main hull from the engineering section. When the engines were operating a faint hum was audible at all times this far aft, driving crewmembers to avoid being assigned here at all times. Several children blocked the door. They stopped and stared at the two marines with wide eyes. Johm shouldered past Alenko. "We are looking for two men in black trenchcoats, have you seen them?"

"What's a trenchcoat?" the smallest boy, barely five, asked. A slightly larger one elbowed him in the ribs.

The oldest child, a sour faced girl maybe twelve years old, scowled. "Yeah, they're in there with my dad, they kicked us out."

Johm nodded. "Thank you, now excuse us." The children stepped aside and the trio walked through. Alenko stopped Johm at the door. "You know, if these really are Ha'La'Tha and they have our guns, this could end badly. Get everyone else out of the room."

"You can take care of this?" Johm asked.

"We can." Johm stepped to one side. Alenko waved Venko after himself. The two marines did their best to walk casually as they entered and Alenko gave the room a quick once over. There were twenty plus people inside. A dozen were sleeping on various bunks and a few were milling about on the floor. Half a dozen had taken the room's chairs and sat in a corner. Two of them wore black trenchcoats and were ethnically Tauron. A tattoo was visible on one's hand. They looked up as Alenko approached them. The two Taurons remained stationary, but the other four, all wearing the dress clothes they had arrivd in, jumped and gave him wary glances that confirmed they were up to something even before Alenko saw the guns.

There were five weapons and a pile of loaded magazines: an MIR-11 combat shotgun, two regulation sidearms, and MIR-9 carbine, like what Alenko now carried slung across his back, and worst of all: an MIR-19.

Alenko put on a friendly smile. "Good day to you." The two Taurons waved. He told them apart by their height differences and the shorter one's bulging red irises, which marked him as a Charisis user. He could see the edges of a tattoo visible beneath both their collars, but couldn't discern more than a few black lines.

"Hello marine, how goes the war?" the taller one said. Behind them Johm was talking rapidly to the innocents and point out the door. Several got up and ran out.

"As good as it can be" Alenko said. "Unfortunately, someone stole a couple weapons out of the arsenal so we've been sent here to take a look for them. Do you mind if the Private inspects the serial numbers on those?"

The Taurons remained completely cool. The other four, possibly customers, were sweating by this point. A quick look around by Alenko told him the room was empty.

"Go ahead" the taller Tauron said. Venko walked forward, giving Alenko a glare as he passed. _Next time you stick your neck out frakker!_

He picked up the pistol, made sure it was safed, then read the number. "Serial is eight ten two four COLFL." He picked up the other. "COLFL again." Alenko's fingertips were relaxing at his side, six inches from his sidearm. The Taurons remained perfectly calm. Venko picked up the handgun, the betrayed his nerves by taking a step away from the pair. "COLFL, these are ours."

"Well isn't that interesting" Alenko said. The taller Tauron's hand vanished inside his jacket. Alenko went for his sidearm. Venko swung the carbine like a club, smashing the bridge of his nose in a spray of blood. The shorter one's hand snapped out and grabbed his arm. He lunged in a blur of motion but Alenko had his sidearm out and aimed at his head. He stopped short, trembling as his brain fought with the inertia built up in his muscles. "Don't" Alenko said. He slowly sat back down and a long black blade slipped from between his fingers and clanged on the metal floor. Venko backed up and unslung his carbine.

Alenko nodded to Johm. "You were right." Johm nodded, but didn't show any elation at his success. Alenko took out his carbine with his other hand and holstered his pistol. "Private, you know what to do." Venko nodded and sped out of the room.

An older man in a first cylon war era uniform opened his mouth. "We-"

"Unless you want to tell me where these guns came from keep your mouth shut," alenko growled. "We need every arm we can get and you steal them, shame on you and that uniform you're wearing if its yours."

"I am going to tell you where it came from." He pointed a crooked finger at the gangsters. "Those two said they bought them from a marine." _Frack_.

"Thank you. You two" the Taurons averted their gaze.

Johm tapped him on the shoulder. "They won't talk, I know this type; they use their lawyers to do the talking." Alenko did his best to resemble a shark looking at its prey with a toothy predatory smile.

"Guess what, there aren't any lawyers here and you have stolen colonial fleet weapons in a time of war, you are fracked unless you tell us who sold em' to you." The two remained silent and staring ahead. Alenko shrugged and settled his aim between them. They remained in that position until two squads of marines and Lieutenant Baker burst in.

"Sergeant, at ease" Baker said. Alenko lowered his weapon. The marines filled the tiny room, half watching Alenko and the other half watching the two possible Ha'La'Tha gangers. "I got your runner, you're saying they got ahold of weapons from the arsenal? Are you sure Sergeant? Because you know shit is going to go down when the Admiral hears that."

"Yes, sir, they've got Colonial Fleet serial numbers on them." Baker shook his head.

"Really? Show me." Alenko bent down and picked up one of the pistols. From the weight in his hand he could tell that it was loaded. He flipped it around and presented it handgrip first. Baker took it and read the serial number quietly. "Well damn Sergeant, good work in that case, hand me the others." He passed the pistol to corporal Varitek on his right. Alenko passed the weapons off to him. "All of them are ours, you know what that means, don't you, Sergeant?"

"Yes sir. They either broke into the armory through two one-decameter doors and a security checkpoint, or one of us sold them the guns. According to this one here it's the latter" he pointed at the veteran.

Baker nodded. He pointed at the six guilty parties "Cuff em' and take em' to the brig, Briggs run off and find Colonel Nessella, this is a case of contraband, level two, we are en route to the brig." Private Briggs sprinted off. The four buyers burst into frantic protests and pleas as the marines grabbed them up.

"We just wanted to be safe!" someone shouted. Alenko shrugged. Johm sighed.

"Sergeant, you wait here with me for a moment." Alenko and Baker remained behind in the now nearly empty room. Baker lowered his voice. "Where did you get information that they had these guns?"

"A friend of mine, Johm" Alenko shifted his gaze to Johm, who was leaning against the doorframe watching them. Baker followed him.

"Now how did you guess these boys had weapons, Mr…"

"Detective Johm Siedner" Johm said. "I saw them showing a couple of sidearms off for sale earlier, claimed to have brought them onboard." Given that everyone coming aboard this ship passes through a metal detector, I didn't think they could have brought them onboard." Baker smiled and nodded.

"I see, thank you Detective, and you Sergeant, please return with me to command."

"Yes sir" Alenko said. The kids were still waiting by the door when they left. They gave them a wide berth and whispered to each other about the scene they had just witnessed.


	22. E5 Part 4

**No, I haven't abandoned this story quite yet, despite the long delay in writing this next chapter. I have been re-editing the entirety of Episode One into something significantly better, I recommend you check it out. I am going to continue alternating between editing older episodes/chapters and posting new chapters. Now, onto the next part of Episode 5:**

** 50****th**** Day of the Second Cylon War:**

**Nessella:**

Colonel Nessella puzzled over Simon, who was handcuffed to his chair directly across from her in his cell for their current interrogation session. "Are you sure that's everything you know?" Nessella asked.

Simon nodded. "Absolutely." On the other side of the bars, Parris scanned the readout for the lie detector and nodded. "It feels like something is missing though. My memories end too suddenly, like I'm watching a movie and it's cut off halfway through."

Nessella raised her eyebrows and pondered that sentiment for a second. "Could the number one who briefed you have performed a memory wipe?"

Simon sneered. "Absolutely not, what do you think I am, some kind of-" he froze, mouth open. His expression softened. "Yes. Its quite possible, and I feel like I should know how. What kind of electrical readings are you getting off of my brain?"

"That is for the docs to understand and me to know. I tell you what. If we decide to trust you, I'll talk to doctor Parris about letting you take a look inside your own head for a bit."

Simon coughed. "Like that will happen."

Nessella's answer was somewhat truthful. "It will. Your shipyard Intel was good enough, thank you for that."

His frown remained. "Your welcome." Nessella stood up and motioned to one of the two marines guarding the door. He walked over and took out a ring of keys. Nessella walked outside. She heard Simon shout over her shoulder "wait!"

She turned around. "Anything else?"

He shook his head. "I have a question for you."

She walked back to the cell and leaned on the doorway, a quizzical look on her face. "Go ahead."

"How far would you go to kill us?"

She fired an answer off the top of her head. "As far as I need to."

He grimaced. "That's not a definite answer. You have been plugging me for definite answers, so, if you don't mind, may I have one in return? How far would you go to wipe my species out?"

Nessella was frustrated first, and then she pulled herself back. The only way to get him to cooperate was to work with him instead of fighting him. She thought for several minutes and let her mind go wild. Ships burned, cylons were torn apart by pliers and saws. Marlay, Grissom, Mirra, and thousands of uniformd crewmembers and civilians died. She put a hold on her mind. "I'd do exactly the same that you have done to mine, nuclear genocide and suicide tactics, at least."

Simon nodded and laid back. "Thank you, Colonel." Nessella left him.

She made her way to the officer's briefing room, where Cage was seated alone at the head of the table, reading off a computer display. He stood to attention as the door swung open.

"At ease Major." He sat back down. Nessella sat down next to him. "What's that?"

Cage swivelled the screen for her to see. "This is the latest report from the quartermaster. Food supplies are down to about three and a half months worth for the entire fleet. Fuel is even lower, we've got enough left for about ten, maybe eleven jumps by the fleet."

The numbers surprised Nessella. "There's a half-full Tylium tanker sitting off the _Largos_' starboard side."

Cage sighed. "Half of our ships were only fuelled up for inter-colony hops when the cylons hit, and we had to refill _Serpentia_'s tanks because they were breached over Virgon. Then there's the strain caused by the weekly position changes Huxton is making us go through and the combat ops. We're running ourselves dry."

Nessella was very worried by this"What's Huxton's plan?"

"He doesn't know about the problem yet, I'm telling him as soon as I sign off."

He closed downt he computer and wiped a hand across his narrow brow, brushing his glasses crooked in the process. "How is it going talking to the cylon? Any good news there?"

Nessella shook her head. "It is out of intel, unless we can find out what is fracking with its brain. Parris isn't having any luck though."

Cage was skeptical. "It's a machine, how hard is it to restore its hardrive?"

Nessella remembered Parris' earlier report. "These infiltrators aren't just computers in human bodies, remember. They are almost exactly like us: organic computer that can realistically simulate a fully developed human nervous system. They are like nothing we've ever seen before."

Cage nodded in admission. "I'm out." He left Nessella alone to file her report.

**Travere:**

"It is ten minutes until midnight, are there any las issues to be brought to the table?" Vice President Alexander Wynne asked. Travere looked around at the red-rimmed eyes of the twenty-two captains facing him. This was the system he'd worked out for now: The quorum was composed of twenty-two differen captains picked from a lottery each month to meet on the _Athenian_ and govern the fleet. In five months President Adar's term-which he was technically completeing-was up he would introduce a more organised system based aboard the Space Park luxury liner _Mollossus_, then stand for re-election.

"No new proposals?" Alex said.

Travere raised his hand. "I wish to make one."

Alex pointed at him. "The table recognizes the Presiden of the Colonial Remnant." Travere nodded but didn't bother smiling as most sets of eyes slugglishly focused on him.

He began. "As you are aware, our military branch is acting unruly, to say the least. There are still draft stations on several ships including the _Tauron Pride_ and _New Cap City_." He nodded at the passenger liner's fuming respective captains, and then continued. "Many ships are in need of food supplies that are being reserved in excess for the navy, and a cylon is currently sitting in the _Vindication_'s brig and we, the ruling body, are not allowed access to it. In short, Admiral Huxton has forgotten that he is not running the Remnant, which I think many of you agree _will_ have dire consequences including possible a military dictatorship once he finds a way to manage the civilian ships without this government."

"He would too," Captain Anton Toleyn of the _Sagittaron Pride_ growled. Travere had all of the captains' eyes locked on him.

He nodded at Anton. "Indeed, which is why I propose a motion to make the office of the Presidency the commander in chief of the Colonial Remnant fleet, and the Quorum of ship's captains its joint chiefs of staff. I will write up the proposal with Mr. Wynne. Huxton will be free to fight the war, but we will provide oversight to reign him in and ensure his actions remain in the best interests of the people, not the military."

There was a moment's pause while the captains weighed his proposal. "It's a risky move," Captain Jeremy Sayman said.

Anton jumped in. "But a necessary one at the very least, really we should think about disarming most of the navy and converting it to survivor transport, and replacing Huxton with someone more mild. I propose one of us"

Travere shook his head. "The cylons are still out there hunting us."

"Indeed, we still need the fleet for protection" Captain Samuel Irlay said.

Anton remained defiant. "Huxton is a loose cannon, if he's still in charge the only thing we can do is pray to Ares that he remains pointed firmly at the cylons."

Jeremy raised his hand. "We'll worry about Huxton once we've gotten some sleep and food, let us consider this measure a start. I second the motion for the reasons that while we still need our fleet, the risk of its usurpation of our government remains too high for it to run wild."

Alex looked around. "Alright then, lets vote." Travere winced at the lack of etiquette. Once the quorum moved to public proceedings his every word would be recorded by reporters. "All for the motion?" Eighteen captins raised their hand. "Well I guess that settles it. Motion passed. Goodnight ladies and gentlemen." There was a burst of movement and a screeching of chairs being pushed out as the captains nearly unanimously stood up and filed towards either of the exits. They would stay in the _Athenian_'s travel bunks, which were wired to their respective ships.

Travere and Wynne were left alone in the conference room. Wynn stood up and walked over to the refrigerator wedged into one corner. He took out a blue carton. "Piraberry juice?"

Travere nodded. "Please." Wynne poured two glasses to the brim with thick neon blue juice, and returned to his seat.

"Do you think Admiral Huxton would make himself dictator?" he asked as he slid a glass to Travere.

Travere took a long, deep, refreshing sip of his juice and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Then he answered. "Huxton is a loose cannon and only satisfied with his own final authority on issues. Give him enough time and he'll decide he's better off without us and, then, well you know the rest." Wynne nodded slightly. As a white-collared beauracrat he hadn't studied politics closely, but he got the picture easily enough. Travere took another sip, and continued speaking. "With Huxton in charge, order on the civilian ships will break down as he flouts whatever natural rights they haven't already lost. Then he'll send in the marines, then there will be riots and mutiny as some of his personnel object to violence against humans, then the cylon infiltrator accusations will begin, then…" He shook his head.

Alex spoke up. "Mr. President, isn't that how the civil war began? Andareus was fed up with the Quorum's attempts to control the military, and ignorance of the cylons?"

Travere nodded. "And from Adar's using the military to suppress dissension from some of his more controversial decisions."

Alex was leaning in as close as he could; hanging on Travere's every word. "Didn't Andareus try to nuke Tauron?"

"Exactly. He claimed he was saving lives when this all started, but by the end of the war when he was on the ropes the pressure forced him back from his high morales. Huxton claims to be protecting the rest of the human race, but without some strong authority holding him back humanity will become his enemy."

"I think Colonel Nessella might be able to cover that if we talk to her."

Travere stiffened in surprise. "Do you now?"

Wynne nodded vigorously. "She seemed like the reasonable authoritative type of officer, unlike your reports of Huxton. If we approached her with the right argument, I think she'd be willing to at least hold him back a little."

Travere filed that little bit of information away in the back of his memory. "I'll take that into consideration." He downed the remainder of his drink and stood up. The pain in his back and head had been eased and he felt a little bit more nimble. "I am returning to my quarters to relax, I suggest you do the same, we've got a long session ahead of us tomorrow."

He walked out without looking back and entered the _Athenian_'s first business class section. As he walked down the aisle he looked at the hundreds of mostly sleeping people, occupying every seat or in the case of some of the children sharing seats, arms wrapped around each other. He passed them, went through the first class section, and turned left into the crew quarters. His bedroom was the second door on the left. He stepped inside.

The three-meter by five-meter room had a utilitarian look to it with its grey paneled walls and black carpet. A round table and four chairs sat on one side between a pantry and an oven/sink setup. On the other side was a picture of the ancient city of the gods on Kobol over a fold-out bunk bed. He changed into a bathrobe and sat down on the bed.

There was simply too much to do…Travere, like Huxton a few kilometers away fell asleep in seconds.

He awoke eight hours later, made breakfast, then returned with the rest of the quorum to the conference room, to begin writing their proposal.

**51****st**** Day of the Secnd Cylon War:**

**Alenko:**

Alenko stood before Admiral Huxton's desk in his private quarters, his hands clasped behind his back and all his weapons removed by the two marines guarding the door. Huxton was staring calmly back at him with not a hint of emotion on his face despite the bad news Alenko had brought. In addition to the security breach thirty weapons were unaccounted for from all three armories.

"Seargeant-at-arms, how many people had the access codes to any of the armories?" he asked.

"Fifteen: you, the Colonel, the Major, and four NCO's for each armory, a list of names are in the file I gave you." There had been four armories originally, but the aft one had been vented to space at Picon.

Huxton nodded and seemed to sit back a little. "What about the two Ha'La'Tha bangers in the brig? You've given the interrogation's official report, but I'd like to hear from your opinion on them in person."

Alenko recalled the thirty hours he'd watched Belsinki and Venko beat the two gang members. "Their names are Thalan and Cole, they are definitely Ha'La'Tha, and there's enough tattoos from the group to be certain. They aren't talking and have these smug grins on even after Corporal Belsinki knocked out a few teeth on each of them. Both still think that they're running the show and within a week we're going to be arrested for prisoner abuse. Detective Siedner says these two have been through the system before, hardened career criminals complete with the bodies on the riverbed. Since he's been actually trained in dealing with criminals, I'm taking his advice."

"Continue to do so then. Sergeant take note; this is what happens when you let the lawyers and human rights activists have their way with the penal system, all the real murderers are let out onto the street by their lawyers and start thinking they run the place. Sergeant, give me fifteen seconds to think of a way to knock that grin off their faces." Huxton reclined all the way ack in his chair and closed his eyes.

Alenko disagreed with the first part of his speech, but said "Yes sir." His gaze went to the analogue clock on the wall behind Huxton as fifteen seconds ticked by. Finally Huxton sat straight up.

"Can you identify a definite leader amongst the pair?" Alenko nodded. "Chain this guy to a wall, and cut a few of his friend's fingers and toes off, then threaten the guy in charge with the same. Lets see if that makes him talk."

Alenko's jaw dropped. "Sir? Say again please?" Huxton repeated. "That is…"

"Necessary. I know you'd like to reserve this kind of action for cylons, but first off these two men may be cylons. Second off, they are endangering the fleet by putting our weapons in the hands of scared civilians and hardened criminals. Third off, there's some corrupt fool in our midst, he's a danger to this ship and needs to be found. Understood?"

Alenko saluted. "Yes sir."

Five hours later he, Belsinki, and Venko sat in the bare interrogation room, a tauron chained to either wall. Cole was curled up and sobbing, three figners missing from his right hand. Thalan was babbling to Ingrams with everything he knew.

"What the frack is wrong with you? We're your species," he sobbed out between confessions. Alenko didn't answer.

Ingrams continued asking questions like he hadn't spoken. "Who is the man you bought the weapons from?"

"I-I don't know, he didn't tell me his name." Alenko nodded to Ingrams. He placed the knife on Thalan's left thumb. Thalan's eyes bulged in terror. "I think his name was Jacobsen, he sold the weapons to us for drugs…"

Belsinki walked over and delivered a kick to Thalan's head, slamming him back into the wall with a loud bang.

Alenko raised a hand and said "don't go for the head, that makes them fuzzy."

Belsinki nodded, and then addressed him. "Corprol Jacobsen is only assigned to central armory number one. He wouldn't have the access codes to every armory."

"We'll have to ask Jacobsen that himself. Take Venko and arrest the Corporal, throw him in a cell. Then tell Huxton we're done here."

"Yes sir. "

Ingrams and the two door guards had just dragged Thalan's dead weight out of the cell when Belsinki and Venko dragged a handcuffed Corporal Jacobsen in. He was wearing his black fatigues, though the distinct silhouette of the Kevlar body armor underneath was missing. Serrin was one of the newer recruits, his black hair was still in a crewcut and he had that wide-eyed nervous 'recruit look' and ther was still some baby fat left on his round cheeks. His pasty white skin was slick with sweat and his teeth were clenched. His brown eyes went from the equally young but more taught Venko, to the massive Belsinki, to Alenko and his stern glare.

Belsinki gave the wall chains an apprehensive look. "Do we lock him up, boss?"

"No, of course not." They dropped Jacobsen in the center of the floor. He curled up, trembling. Alenko got off his stool and sat crosslegged in front of him. He kept his stern glare on as he recalled what he knew about the corporal. "Corporal Serrin Jacobsen, age: twenty. A native of Boskrik city, Virgon. Parents worked the lands of one of the upper nobility, but you chose to join the marines, I think you said because you wanted to challenge yourself. You earned those Corporal pips barely three months out of basic because you pulled three marines out of a burning APC after a training frack-up, that was two months ago." He sighed. "What happened?" Jacobsen's eyes fixed on him.

Jacobsen didn't answer. Alenko shook his head. "I'm trying to keep your head afloat, because you're one of us, my responsibility. If you tell me everything then I will write my report and send you back to the barracks with as little punishment as I can. If you don't, eventually the Admiral is going to grow impatient and come down here." Jacobsen nodded vigorously. "You're one of us, so I'm going to do everything I can to take a bullet for you. Huxton however _will _rip you apart if he thinks you selling weapons to a pair of Ha'La'Tha' stereotypes is sufficient grounds to call you a danger to the fleet or a possible cylon agent trying to make mayhem." He put a hand on Jacobsen's shoulder. "So please tell me what happened." He pointed to the door and Belsinki, Venko, and Ingrams wordlessly left.

Jacobsen's eyes remained on their backs until they shut the door with a clang, then flickered right back to Alenko.. He practically exploded "I needed a high, do you know what happens when you go into dust withdrawal?" Alenko put a hand up to shield himself from the flying spittle. "I ran out last week, I needed it, my eyes were already turning green. Thalan saw it, he told me he had six month's worth, I needed it, before my veins melted!"

Alenko winced. Sympathetic tearing pain ran through his blood vessels at the thought. "Why were you on dust to begin with?" Jacobsen's spine sagged and his eyes went to the floor. "Look at me, I don't like talking to people when they are looking at the floor."

He straightened up. "It was something me and my high school buddies did for fun, to ease the boredom. I knew dealers in both our stopover points at Virgon and Leonis."

"What did the gangmen say to you?"

Jacobsen hesitated for a moment before saying "they mocked my withdrawal symptoms and my attempts to hide them, and offered me six months supply in exchange for access to the aft armory."

Alenko felt shame and pity for the marine. "How did weapons from all three armories end up with them?"

Jacobsen shrugged his shoulders. "The smith is next to the aft armory, often when we repair weapons we just pack them up in there."

"I'll ignore the improper handling of weapons for now. How did they collect the weapons?"

"I gave them the codes and my shift times, and I was elsewhere when they appeared." He sighed and his shoulders sagged. "I just kept telling myself that I was saving myself by doing this, and I didn't need to know what they were doing with the weapons?"

"What were they doing? And how many were they planning on taking?"

"How many weapons? I don't know, they didn't say. I heard one of them say something about moving them off the Vinny, but that's it." That sent alarm bells ringing in Alenko's head. On the _Vindication_ it was possible to search every compartment, every man woman and child onboard until any missing armaments could be found. If any weapons had made it into the rest of the fleet, it would have been impossible to track them all.

Alenko tried to give Jacobsen the expression a father would give a troublesome child. He couldn't put the fatherly part into it, having never had that influence in his own childhood. "Is that everything, Corporal? I need to know. If we discover something else you are going straight to the Admiral."

The brown eyes widened. "That's everything, I swear sir!" Jacobsen was done. He was pale and panting heavily, sweat running down his forehead.

Alenko stood up and went to the door. He paused, his hand resting on the latch, and turned back. "Corporal, you are remaining here until future notice. Expect several weeks in the brig and a reduction in rank." Jacobsen nodded slightly.

**Huxton:**

Huxton cracked his knuckles over his desk. "I went through the arsenal records with the quartermaster, everything is accounted for. If those two were attempting to move them off the ship then we got lucky." Across from him Alenko nodded. Huxton studied him. His body was rigid at attention and his face betrayed no emotion, but he still looked tensed. "They were just criminals, trying to make a profit on other people's fears-lets hope."

Alenko looked confused. "Should I go back there and beat them a little more?"

Huxton picked up a blue pen and began writing on his planner. "That wouldn't hurt, you can start tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll be contacting the other ships. We don't have any evidence that there was a man on the other side, but better safe than sorry."

"Yes sir."

Huxton put on a small smile. "There's also the matter of Corporal Jacobsen."

Alenko reacted a little too quickly. "He was forced to give up the codes sir, they stalked-"

Huxton broke in. "You would say that."

"Sir?"

Huxton's smile widened. "Jacobsen is one of your marines, you are trying to cover for him because he's one of your men and you feel responsible for him, as you should. Don't lie to me Sergeant, I will find out, I was once commanded by a sergeant too."

"Yes sir." Alenko was sweating now.

"Good. Jacobsen, what happened?" Alenko told him everything. Huxton was more annoyed than outright angry when he finished. "Young man, blows his life on the green dust that makes him fly, fool. Jacobsen is hereby reduced in rank to private, and sentenced to the brig for three months, pending any opportunity to redeem himself. First you are to bring him down to the Doctor for treatment with his addiction and confiscate his remaining drug supply. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir!" They were damn lucky he had seem Amy the night before.

Huxton continued working long after Alenko was gone. Until the intercom announced "Admiral Huxton to the CIC, Admiral Huxton to the CIC." Huxton sighed and made the quick walk down the corridor. Marlay and Cage were in the CIC, bending over MArlay's desk to read something.

Huxton joined them. "What is this?"

Cage looked up. He seemed to be half-smiling. "Official message from the President of the Colonial Remnant, you should read it."

Huxton was puzzled by his smile. "Well, alright." He picked it up and read it aloud. "Colonial Quorum decrees number eighteen. The President of the Colonial Remnant is hereby to be placed as the commander in chief of the colonial navy, in concurrence with the position of his predecessor, the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. Admiral Adriatic Huxton is to submit a dossier of all fleet assets to the office of the presidency and make open to inspection all such assets, regardless of security requirements. The full description of the duties of the Admiral in relation to the Presidency will arrive within the hour." He let the paper slip from his fingers and waft to the floor, landing at the base of another station a meter away.

"Oh gods" Marlay whispered.

Huxton spun around and jpointed one finger at her. "Captain, prepare a message to be sent to the office of the presidency _immediately_."

Marlay snapped around to her keyboard so fast her hair flew out behind her. "Yes sir." Cage took a step forward; ready to interject if Huxton became too irrational.

"Captain, transcribe the following: History has proven that whenever politicians get involved in military affairs, the military suffers and loses. I will name examples if need be. I am going to fight this war the way I see fit to run it. You stick to managing your civilians until I need them. Do not give me a lecture on the natural rights of humanity, when the human race is facing extinction those rights must be suspended for the greater good."

Marlay typed the message out and sent it. "Message away, sir."

"Good, I'll stay around for a response, just in case."

**Travere:**

The paper containing Huxton's response was passed around the _Athenian_'s conference room. Travere heard the steadily rising voices of discontent and simply rocked back in his chair. The paper reached him and he picked it up, read it over one more time.

Captain Samuel Irlay stood. "Well, that went well. Let me say, just in case anyone hasn't noticed, we can't fight him without crippling the fleet." There were voices of agreement.

Travere nodded. "I was a bit idealistic in this."

Irlay shook his head vigorously. "No, no, it was a good idea, Huxton is just insane, and as I said, fighting him makes the problem worse."

"Why not destroy him then?" Anton asked.

Travere sighed. "Because that will get us all killed via cylon or marine firing squad."

Anton had that idealistic fire in him that propelled the activists in the streets. He would be good standing up to riot police in capitol square, where his actions would inspirethe public to take action. Here, making the decisions, his idealism would only cause friction between him and the other captains and risk the fleet. "What can we do?"

Travere threw the paper on his desk. "We wait, and play along, that's all we can do right now, that and pray Huxton doesn't lead us to ruin."


End file.
